Vigilante by Night
by StoryWeaver56
Summary: Batman finds the Joker has escaped again right after his captivity. But this time the Joker has other plans in store...story takes place directly after TDK. hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Commissioner James Gordon walked briskly up the steps to the Gotham City Police Department Headquarters. He sighed. It seemed that he'd been spending more time at HQ than at home, nowadays. His wife, Barbara, wasn't too happy about that. After all, he did have a wife and kids at home that he needed to care for. But he cared for them by doing his job.

Gordon's hair was slightly askew and dark circles were starting to form under his eyes. He glanced at his watch with a look of despair. Barbara was definitely not happy about him being called into HQ at 3:30 in the morning. They didn't tell him why—all he knew was that it was urgent. "It's still dark outside!" Barbara had said. "And after all we've been through in the last twenty-four hours, can't they leave us alone?"

"In order to keep other families from experiencing the same thing that we did, I need to go to work. Even at this early hour," was what he'd said.

She had then grudgingly complied. What else was there for her to do? While she didn't like it, she knew that he was right. Gordon's job as Commissioner was to help stop the plague of crime in Gotham City. And he was going to do it whether they called him in at 3:30 A.M. or not. After all, when he was new to Gotham almost eleven years ago, he had gotten a job offer in Chicago. He could have gone there. But his wife had gotten used to living in Gotham and after his sudden outburst of promotions, he felt obligated to stay. And now this was where he was. After he had faked dead to help bring the Joker into custody, practically ruining Barbara's life, and then had his family nearly killed at the flip of Two-Face's fateful coin, he was almost fed up with this city. But not quite.

Gordon was, to be honest, too interested. Like when a person watches a soap opera marathon for hours because they need to know what happens next, whether it really matters or not. That was Gordon. He had to know what the Batman would do next (really, what other city had a man—if he was a man—who ran around in a black uniform and a cape to fight crime?) and he also felt like he needed to be there. While he wouldn't tell anybody about this but his family, Batman trusted him. And, Gordon later found out, Batman needed him. After all, Gordon had saved him from the Joker when Batman was unconscious. Gordon couldn't leave this city, no matter how dangerous it was, for the life of him. And it might just cost him that.

When Gordon got up to the doors of the building, shaking himself out of his reverie, he noticed that it was chaotic inside, with the GCPD trying to ward off the already-arrived news programs, photographers, and newspaper journalists. All of Gotham City's main press companies. This did not look good.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked Detective Ramierez, who happened to be nearby. He didn't like being Commissioner and not know what was going on.

Ramirez wore her kevlar with the white GCPD letters on the back, and her black hair in a ponytail. Her face was flushed from the excitement and there was a red bump on her forehead from where Two-Face had hit her with his gun the night before.

"Word somehow leaked out that the Joker escaped," she said with a hard expression on her face.

"_What_?" Gordon exclaimed. "The Joker _escaped_? We just got him contained! We didn't even move him to Arkham yet!" Arkham Asylum was where someone as crazy as the Joker was supposed to be; after all, he was an insane criminal mastermind. But they had just gotten the Joker from Batman the night before, when the hospital was blown up, the ferries were rigged with bombs, the hostages were under the clown masks, Two-Face was threatening his wife and kids with the very crucial flip of a coin...

"We're trying to hold off the press until we feel that we can release something to the public that won't make them go haywire," Ramirez stated. They pushed through the noisy crowd of GCPD and news station crews alike, both of which were trying to get each other to cave and either release more information or leave.

A man with a camera ran up to Gordon. A mic with the words "GCTV" on it was shoved into his face, quickly followed by five more colorful microphones of various news stations.

"Commissioner, what will happen when the streets of Gotham are once again plagued with this madman: the Joker?" The inquisitor asked this quickly yet clearly in his newscaster way.

Gordon didn't want to admit that he knew next to nothing about the subject. He was starting to get frustrated with this whole affair already. He was sleep-deprived, homesick—especially with the close call the night before—and irritated with the bombarding newscasters who asked him questions he didn't even know how to answer and didn't want to admit that. Ramirez noticed that he was getting frustrated and asked, more like commanded, that they leave him alone until they all knew more information. This worked and Gordon was led away, cameras flashing and a din of more questions left behind him.

When Gordon and Ramirez entered Gordon's office, he swiftly shut the door, blocking out the noise from below, and turned to Ramierez.

"How could he have possibly gotten out? Please tell me it wasn't another explosion," Gordon said.

Ramirez shook her head, dark ponytail bouncing.

"At least that's a relief." Gordon was trying to grasp at anything that would make him feel better about the situation. His head was spinning. "Wait, tell me how he got out later. What's important now is who's on the job?"

"The SWAT are out right now and trying to track him down. Unfortunately he is leading them into what is starting to look like a wild goose chase. They've been to the Narrows and back again three times now. Looks like the Joker's going to get the last laugh after all," Ramirez shook her head again. "I don't know what to do. He's gone."

"Not gone. The Joker's always hiding just around the corner in Gotham. We just need to find that corner and then get him," Gordon said. "Why didn't anyone tell me this earlier?"

"We didn't know about his escape until right before 3:30. We called you in as soon as we learned about it," she answered.

"Alright," Gordon said, pulling at his thinning dark hair. "Alright. How did the Joker escape?"

"Do you want to see?" Ramirez asked. Gordon knew that she knew the question was rhetorical. He didn't need to remind her that of course he needed to know: he was the Commissioner. Some people, almost including himself, couldn't quite grasp that yet. Some people didn't like Gordon. But those only seemed to be the bad-cops, and Gordon didn't care about what the bad-cops thought, as long as he could get them out of GCPD employment as soon as possible.

She nudged her head at the door to show him that there was something to see. He immediately followed.

Ramirez led him to the part of the cellblock that wasn't destroyed by the explosion from the Joker's escape the other night. GCPD had ordered for that to be fixed as soon as possible, so that they could start jailing people again. All of the prisoners caught in the explosion of the phone in the man's body had died, as well as the medics. Yet the police who were in the room that the Joker had been in when he asked for his phone call had survived the blast, albeit with wounds and concussions.

Walking through this area, Gordon finally felt the whole issue start to dawn on him. It was true: the Joker had escaped and Gordon was left to clean up the problem. He had a bad feeling that he wouldn't be keeping his title of Commissioner for long.

When they got to the area of the cellblock that hadn't been affected by the explosion, Gordon grit his teeth. He hadn't expected something like this.

The bodies of the six policemen guarding the cell were all lying on the ground, their faces smeared with the make-up: white all over their faces, black around their eyes, and the red smear of a smile that went from ear to ear. Looking closer, Gordon noticed that the smile was more than skin deep: the Joker had found a knife and carved a diabolical grin into each of their faces. There were HAHA's etched in what looked like blood on the wall, some of the A's randomly upside down. First day for Gordon on the job as Commissioner and this fiasco was what happened to him.

Gordon could stand dead bodies: he saw them constantly with his job. But people who he had known each scarred like this, each obviously tortured by this insane villain? This happened overnight, when he was happily sleeping in his bed next to Barbara...

"Everything was so quiet," Ramirez said, making Gordon jump out of his thoughts. "No one heard anything to sound the alarm."

Gordon kicked some of the joker cards that were lying around. "The son-of-a-bitch," he said through his teeth. Then he turned and walked over to the forensics group in the corner who were talking in low voices and taking pictures for further research. "What did we find? DNA?"

"No," one of them said, a man with brown hair and not any other really defining qualities. "No DNA, no blood except for theirs, no nothing. It's like he wasn't even here, but he obviously was. Look at all of the joker cards..."he swept his hand over the whole mess like he could make it all go away. Which is what Gordon wanted.

"So the Joker killed them and then left? How could he have left?"

"We're still trying to figure that out. It isn't easy to get into the Joker's mind," the forensics man said.

"But it can be done and it will be done. Contact me if you get anything. And do me a favor and keep this from the public for as long as I say so," Gordon said while walking out. He had to leave the room now. The pale faces with the smeared make-up were starting to upset him, which was odd because he was usually a man who could handle something like this. Must be the early hour, he told himself.

"Commissioner, we can't keep this from them for long," Ramirez said as they walked out of the cellblock.

"It won't be long," Gordon stated. "News will be out by the time the sun comes up. The headlines will say, 'The Joker Escaped, But Was Captured Again'. This time he won't laugh himself away from us." That wasn't the most creative title to give a headline, but Gordon wasn't a journalist. He was a cop and he was going to find this mad man! Now, after seeing the carnage, Gordon was resolute and completely awake, and Ramirez could see that.

"I want more than trying: I want results." By this time Gordon had left the cellblock and was in the main office area again. He projected his voice so that the rest of the GCPD could hear. "I want half the SWAT searching, half the SWAT making sure the ferries get to where they're going. I don't want anymore lethal jokes coming from this nutcase. We need him back under lock and key before the sun comes up!"

In the last twenty-four hours most of the people who wanted out of Gotham had gotten out, but some who had learned that the Joker was in captivity again just wanted back to their homes. The last thing that Gordon wanted was another problem with the ferries that would scare the citizens of Gotham away forever.

As people, including Ramirez, rushed about to execute his demands, Gordon decided to put out his hand to stop her. There was something he needed to know.

"Is your mother alright?" Gordon asked, brow furrowed, wondering if Detective Ramirez' mother, who was in the hospital that was blown up yesterday, had gotten onto one of the evacuation school buses before the hour the Joker had given them was up.

She nodded stiffly, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"And what about Dent? Did he hurt you bad? I heard that you were out for a while after he hit you."

"I'm fine," she said. Her face held a type of invisible screen over her thoughts, blocking him from seeing anything. Gordon knew this look from detainees who didn't want to speak or reveal any information. He decided that he would try another time, since she seemed like she wouldn't budge on the matter, and he nodded and walked over to the big window that looked out over the road in front of HQ. Looking through the blinds, he saw the red, white, and blue lights in the dark of the early morning flashing from the patrol cars that were speeding away from the building with their sirens on and loud. Gordon took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. This day, which hadn't really started yet, kept getting worse and worse. The sun wasn't even up yet.

When Gordon put his glasses back on, he saw that a familiar black car had pulled up to the building. _Mayor Garcia!_ Gordon thought in a panic_. Coming to hear my report on the matter, no doubt._ He hurriedly smoothed his hair and straightened his tie in a desperate attempt to make himself look more professional and in control. _Damn_, he thought. Maybe this day could get worse.

Gordon started to walk over to the stairs that led to the main hall of the building, but he stopped when he remembered the crowd. Gordon sighed again and took out his business cell phone. He had three cell phones: his personal one, his business one, and his secret cell phone that could contact Batman, given to him by the man himself. Hmm, Gordon thought, _I might use that later..._

Gordon dispatched a quick text to Mayor Garcia: "Use back door. Main hall swamped." He hoped that the mayor would get the message before the news stations got to him. That would just make things worse.

Unfortunately, Mayor Garcia didn't get the message in time and he had to force his way through the crowd. When he finally made it up the stairs, Gordon was waiting for him.

"What the hell's going on?" Mayor Garcia asked Gordon.

"That's what I said," Gordon muttered. It made him think of how new he still felt with the issue. Damn, how quickly this whole affair happened! "The Joker escaped," he said, straightforward. Gordon knew the mayor didn't like it said any other way.

"Escaped?" the mayor said. "You're telling me I'm supposed to tell all of Gotham that possibly the most insane, murderous criminal alive has _escaped_?"

"We have SWAT teams searching for him and protecting the ferries and the rest of the city. What we can. Our goal is to get him back in our hands by morning."

"Any other help?" Mayor Garcia asked, hinting.

"You mean Batman?" Gordon asked. He didn't want to play guessing games today and he knew that no one but Mayor Garcia was listening. The others that the mayor came with were still standing near the doorframe, out of earshot.

Mayor Garcia looked at him without answering his question_. That's Mayor's sign for "yes", _Gordon thought. This will be awkward.

"Well, Batman was chased away by us," Gordon said, trying to say _"__I told you we would need him"_ as gently as possible. Batman really was Gotham's last and only hope. It seemed that Gordon was the only one who accepted that. "And the Bat-signal was destroyed..." There was no other way to say this. Gotham had made a bad choice by chasing Batman away.

"Gordon, contact him," Mayor Garcia said abruptly.

"How...?" It seemed that Gordon wanted to ask how he would do that with no Bat-signal, but really he wanted to know more about how Mayor Garcia knew he could contact him anyway. But it really wasn't a surprise that the mayor knew. Most people had been suspecting Gordon of vigilante-contact, but they didn't have the proof to bring him down.

"You know how," the mayor said. "I didn't promote you yesterday for no reason. Clean up this mess."

When Mayor Garcia turned away to walk out, he took his phone out of his black coat pocket. Gordon watched as he finally read the message, skirted to the right at the last second, and started walking down the stairs that led to the back door of the building. Gordon shook his head at the minor irony that just occurred and turned away. _So much for giving him that message before he talked to me. I guess it doesn't really matter to me now. _

Gordon let himself reflect on Mayor Garcia's words. With the Joker out and about, Commissioner Gordon knew that cleaning up the city would be no easy feat.

~/~/~/~/~/~

Gordon walked back into his office to get the black cell phone that Batman had given him once. It could only contact Batman and was used at times when Gordon didn't want to use something as obvious to the people that something was wrong as the Bat-signal. People got distressed. But now, with the Bat-signal destroyed, this cell phone would be perfect for the moment.

Gordon pressed the combination of numbers that would call the vigilante. When he put the phone up to his ear he checked his watch. It was 4:43 A.M.—did Batman ever come out in the daylight? Or was he really like a bat and nocturnal? These were questions that surrounded the awed denizens of Gotham daily. If he was only nocturnal, this would be a problem because the sun was starting to come out and the Joker needed to be captured again and soon. This time they would put him under maximum security and never let him out of at least twenty trusted people's sights.

"Gordon." The voice was low and rough, the voice of Batman.

Gordon got quickly to the point. "The Joker's gone. Escaped. We're doing all we can but he seems to be leading us in circles. We need him back before the sun rises. Otherwise, Gotham will be plunged into chaos yet again. And we all know what that's like."

"It's barely been twenty-four hours since you chased me away. Do you want my help or not?"

Gordon was surprised. Was it just him or did Batman seem a bit _emotional_? Was that possible? Well, if so, Batman's helped Gordon out so much. Maybe it was time for Gordon to help Batman.

"Since when have you been worried about how we feel? You're a vigilante, for God's sake! Besides, since when was I involved in chasing you away? I was there with my family and Dent! You know that Gotham needs you. Just because we smashed the Bat-signal doesn't mean we smashed crime in all of Gotham! We have to reject you for the public relations. They wouldn't like it if the police department let even one law go unheeded for our benefit. You're the Dark Knight! What had I told Jimmy? Oh, yes, that you are the hero Gotham deserves, the silent guardian, the watchful protector...our Dark Knight! We need you out there!"

There was a pause on the other side of the line, as if to say, _"Are you done with your rant yet?"_ Then Batman spoke:

"It's a good thing I'm already there."

With that, Gordon opened his mouth to ask how he knew about everything to actually be in the action already, but the line went dead.

_Damn, he's good_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Batman disconnected from his conversation with Gordon. He was crouching on a rickety fire escape, peering down at the shadowy alley below him. The dark red bricks of the buildings surrounding the alley were tinged with the faint gold of the one fading street lamp nearby. The feeble rays of light from the street lamp reflected on the rain-dampened pavement. The skyscrapers of Gotham stretched out above him, creating a silhouette of dark buildings speckled with yellow lights that shone from windows. Gothamites never sleep, Batman reflected. And the Joker's no exception.

He also noticed that a faint pale light was starting to shine on the horizon, indicating that morning was coming. This was a problem: Batman didn't like working in the daytime, since he had another identity to keep up and that identity had to sleep and eat and keep up appearances sometime. But since he was on the trail of the Joker, he couldn't give up now. Besides, when it pertained to the Joker and Gotham's safety, he would never give up.

Batman hadn't been chased away by the police the night before. Yes, he had spoken true to Gordon when he had said that he felt like a failure when he looked back at the wake of death his vigilante-ism had left. But, after calming down and talking to Alfred about it, he realized that his Mission was for the greater good. While it was horrible, the few unfortunates who had died were better than a city of possible victims. He still felt horrible about it, but he had to stay and help out. After all, nothing could chase him away from his Mission: to rid the streets of Gotham from scum like Joe Chill, the man who had killed his parents behind the opera house so many years ago. On that day, a young Bruce Wayne's eyes were opened. And not so gently.

A flash of purple caught his peripheral vision. He snapped his head to the left, deeper into the alley. Then he held still, making his body fall back into the shadows.

"If you want me so bad come and get me!" There was that taunting tone; there was that ridiculous laugh.

And there he was, stepping out from around the corner, somehow with a retrieved purple jacket and a retrieved knife in his hand. He was wearing his usual matching purple pinstripe pants and his green vest. Even his gloves and shoes were purple, all custom made. His hair was stringy and dyed a green that was so faded it was now just a sheen. His face was messily painted a deathly white hue with dark circles around his eyes and that red smile that covered the scars that led from the corners of his mouth to the hinges of his jaw. The scars were so bad that there were little bubbles of skin that had bumped up around the ends of them.

Batman jumped down to the ground, black cape streaming out behind him. He landed perfectly balanced on his feet, like he knew he would. With his right hand he took out a Batarang, hoping to be able to knock the Joker out before the madman could get away again.

Batman had been watching near the Joker's cell when he had been in custody, making sure that he would not escape. Batman had even bugged the place and had been listening from the roof behind HQ, waiting for anything. He hadn't been satisfied with the Joker sitting in a cell again, since that had happened once and hadn't worked. So when Batman had started hearing strangled noises from the bug that had sent the sounds to the earpiece in his cowl, he had been instantly on the alert. He had watched as the Joker had gone through a side door, a door that no one had used and people had forgotten about. Easy as that. And Batman had followed him.

About fifteen minutes later the GCPD had finally found out that the Joker was gone and had sent troops out to get him. Gordon was called in. The Joker hadn't known at the time that Batman was following him, so, instead of leading Batman off his trail, the Joker had led the oncoming GCPD off _their_ trails.

Eventually Batman had come to this moment, where he would finally put the Joker back into the custody that he belonged in. Batman's frown got deeper at the thought of the inevitable fight ahead of them.

"Why so serious, Batman?" the Joker asked with a deep mocking tone to his already mocking voice. "Don't think you can get me before the sun comes up?"

The Joker looked dramatically up to the pale pink skyline of the city before looking back at Batman. "Don't you wanna play some more?" Then he let out a hysterical laugh that echoed along the damp brick walls surrounding the alley.

"What I want to do is bring you back to where you belong," Batman responded in his low growl. He held a stance that showed he was ready for any move that the Joker might try.

"Hmm, I don't think so," the Joker responded. "As fun as it was killing those scared little guards, I wouldn't want to be redundant. Let's play another game." And here his voice reached a lower key. "I like games that show me what people are feeling. Let's see if you will respond as well, since I'm not sure you really are human!" The Joker lifted up his knife and tossed back his hair with it, making Batman tense at the sudden action. This did not go unnoticed by the Joker and he laughed again, loud and screeching.

"You thought, _yoo hoo_! you thought that I would throw my knife at you! _Hee hee_! Why would I do that?" He was once again calm, his panting from the exertion of his insane laughter ceased. "I don't stab! Who do you think I am? I take my time with pain! What can I say? I'm a romantic: I always like to see who people really are inside..."

Batman frowned. He was done with this game. Time to start finding openings to get this job finished once and for all.

"But don't worry." The Joker had misinterpreted the frown. "I won't ask you to take that mask off. Not now. This isn't dramatic enough. Who will see? Me and...nobody. What fun is that? You always need to have an audience. Always. Remember that." He licked his lips and did what looked like a swallowing motion in this throat. Then his eyes hit the Batarang. "What's that? You think you can hit me with a metal bat? _Woo hoo hoo_! _A metal bat!_"

_He really has lost it_, Batman thought.

"I'd like to see you block this," Batman growled as he prepared for his throw.

As quick as lightning, Batman threw the Batarang at the Joker. But the Joker was quick, as well. The immovable object had met the unstoppable force. With another laugh, the Joker tumbled to the side, got up quickly, and, purple coat flashing, he ran around the corner, his laughter echoing off the sides of the alley while the Batarang hit the edge of the walls.

"I didn't even start my game yet! But if you wanna play your little game first, then let's go! _Hoo hoo hoo_! _Hee hee_! _Hoo hoo_!" The Joker was panting and laughing as he ran down the alley, Batman in quick pursuit.

As Batman ran around the corner, he pulled out his grapple gun, hoping to somehow get in front of the Joker. Before Batman could do anything, the Joker started throwing a small bomb behind him, which exploded and sent out some type of gas that made Batman slightly disoriented and dizzy. But he quickly remembered to hold his breath before he took action. He squeezed the trigger of the grapple gun and the line shot out, the end of it connecting to another fire escape ahead of him. Then he squeezed the trigger again and was pulled up and toward the fire escape as the line was pulled back into the grapple gun.

Once Batman got onto the slightly precarious fire escape, he didn't hesitate long. He quickly calculated how long he should wait before he could jump down to overcome the Joker.

The Joker kept running, his laughter ceasing from his being out of breath. He reached into the pocket of his purple jacket again for more of the small bombs that he was using to keep Batman away. Before he threw one over his shoulder, he looked back for aim and realized that Batman had disappeared. Then he stopped, made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, and completely turned around.

He lifted his hands from his sides in irritation, as if wondering why Batman had cheated at his game.

"'You can't play fairly, then don't play at all," the Joker said, clearly annoyed.

"I'm not playing any games," a low voice said right behind the Joker, practically into his left ear.

He spun around to see the dark figure of Batman right behind him, another Batarang in his hand. The Joker laughed with glee to see his twisted game resumed.

While the Joker had stopped and turned around, the Dark Knight had silently spread the wings to his costume, glided down, and had landed right behind the Joker, all the while without a noise. He pulled out a Batarang and held it ready.

Sirens were getting louder. The GCPD had finally caught on. The Joker was done with his little game.

But the unexpected caught Batman by surprise. Right after he had said his words to the Joker, he heard a scream in a nearby alleyway, the scream of what sounded like a girl.

"Help!" someone screamed. "Stop! Help me!"

It was early morning and some of the civilians had started going to work. Maybe someone had been assaulted on the way. Batman stood now facing the Joker, not knowing what to do. It definitely sounded like someone was in distress and needed help and was practically calling his name, but the Joker still needed to be captured.

Quickly, Batman made his decision. The police cars were just around the corner and would be there any minute. They would once again bring the Joker into custody. They wouldn't be nearing the alley that held another problem. Besides, if Batman stayed, the GCPD would attempt to arrest him again, which would only make things more complicated than they should be.

So, right as the police cars and SWAT vans came to a screeching halt behind him, Batman took out his grapple gun again, aimed, and shot it toward the roof of the building at his side. Taking one last look at the Joker—red and blue lights of the SWAT vans dancing over his grinning face—he squeezed the trigger to make himself fly up to the top of the building and he landed there with a thud.

"What, running away? Scared of the cops?" the Joker's taunting voice reached Batman's ears, along with the sound of the telltale hysterical laughter echoing inside the alley.

But Batman didn't have time to wait. The screams were getting louder, Someone needed his help. This was his job. There was always more crime to fight in Gotham City. Now that the GCPD was here, they would take care of the Joker.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his cape and unfurled it, waiting a second for the molecules in the veins of the cape to realign so that he could fly with his "wings". When they were ready, Batman leaped off of the building and caught the wind of the dive, gliding down toward the source of the screams. He angled to the left a bit and then, when he was almost on top of the alley, he pulled his arms in so that his hands were directly in front of him and facing down; this made his wings lose momentum on the wind and therefore let him fall into the alley. The alley was more of a deserted, dark street, really, than an alley. But what difference did it make? Someone could become a victim anywhere.

Batman momentarily thought about how the GCPD would be handling the Joker right then. But Batman was good at going from one issue to the next without getting confused, so he abandoned the thought and focused on what was happening in front of him.

There was a woman in front of him, young and attractive, who had seemed to be going to work. It was probably about six in the morning now, so this would be understandable. She was surrounded by three tough-looking men who were pushing her and harassing her. She looked scared and clutched her purse to herself like the small bag would protect her.

One of the men had a dagger in his hand and was pointing it right at her. This seemed to be the object of most of the girl's fear. She was staring at it with terror in her eyes, like she could hardly believe what was happening.

Batman decided that there was no immediate danger, so he fell back into the shadows made by a couple of garbage cans, hoping to assess the situation and wait for the perfect moment to jump out.

"We're just askin' for the purse and a little love. Just a kiss," the man with the dagger said.

"I'm not stupid," the girl retorted, voice quavering. "You want more than that." She flinched back toward the wall of a building laden with advertisements painted onto the brown brick and worn by weather and age.

"Don't be that way, sweets," another one said. The third one just grinned.

This was enough waiting. In that time Batman had grapple-gunned himself back up onto the building behind the men and in front of the girl, all the while making sure that he made a faint swishing sound with his cape.

The sound was enough for the third man to turn and look for the noise. When his eyes led him up the wall of the building and toward the paling sky, he saw a terrifying silhouette standing on the roof of the building, staring at them. At once his fears overcame him as the rumors of the Bat that he had heard from other gangsters came into his head. He jumped back in fright.

"Yo, man, it's the Bat!" He pointed up at Batman.

"What you talkin' about?" the man with the dagger said, not taking his eyes off the girl.

Before anyone could answer, Batman unfurled his wings again and flew down to the scene of the assault. When he touched the ground, he crouched and prepared to leap at them. His eyes looked dark and menacing to the criminals, the furrowed brow of his cowl making his intentions known. The three men leaped back and the dagger turned from the girl to Batman.

_Just my intent_, Batman thought. _When I fight the Joker, I miss predictable criminals_.

Suddenly, Batman leaped at them, his black cape surrounding the second man. There was a muffled yell and then the thug was out cold, unconscious on the ground. The third man was smart and had quickly learned from the first attack: he pulled out a small gun that was hidden inside of his jacket and squeezed the trigger at the black form of the Bat. The bullet was stopped dead by the tough lining of Batman's gear and Batman swiftly kicked the man in the chest, which knocked him out as well. Batman grabbed the gun and dismantled it so that the man with the dagger couldn't try anything with it.

The girl clutched her purse and continued to cower against the wall.

Then Batman looked toward the man with the dagger. The man held it out threateningly.

"I'm warnin' you, Bat, you come anywhere near me, this won't feel good in your side," he said, voice wary.

Batman decided to respond by getting the job over with and he jumped forward at the man despite the warning.

True to his word, the man tried to plunge the dagger into Batman's suit, but the work of Lucius Fox was excellent and the dagger only scratched the suit before bouncing away, blade slightly bent to the side.

Batman quickly overcame this man as well, all the while not killing a single one of them. Killing was against the rules. The Batman was not a murderer.

Then Batman turned to the girl, who was now crouching against the wall, purse held firmly against her head. He always had to make sure that the victims were okay.

"Are you alright?" Batman asked with his rough voice.

"Never better," she said quietly, putting her purse down slowly. "So you _are_ real," she said, visibly trying to calculate what had happened.

"I thought that everyone knew that by know," Batman said, voice gentler to keep her from being too scared of him.

"Well, you must realize it's hard to believe. I mean, the whole bat idea and everything..." she looked him over.

Batman looked at the sky. It was now a pale pink shade.

"Where do you work?" he asked her.

"Three blocks down, at Wayne Enterprises," she answered. "I think I'll drive from now on. I thought that walking was better for the environment and all, and that it would be better, personally, because of the economy, but if my safety is at risk..." She looked at her purse again, her thoughts starting to drift.

_She's in shock_, Batman thought, watching her vacant and worried expression.

"Maybe you should take the day off," he suggested. "I don't think that Bruce Wayne would mind."

"I don't think that he would ever know or care, personally," she replied. The statement hit the Bruce side of Batman a bit hard, but he understood where she was coming from.

_Well, I'm done for this night,_ Batman thought. While he _was_ the Batman—the superhero of Gotham—he was also human. He was tired and needed to go home. _The Joker's no longer a threat, the sun is coming out, which means crime will diminish…_He had nothing to lose. He would make an anonymous call to the police department about the thugs in the street, who, Batman knew, would be out for a while. "I'll watch over you on your way home," he said. "Get some rest and try not to walk around in this city when it's still dark," he said. She nodded and thanked him.

"By the way, my name is Kate," she said. "Kate Lowell." She turned and headed down the street.

_Lowell_, Batman thought. _I've heard of Lowell before, but I don't think it's from work..._He decided to do some research when he got back to his penthouse.

Batman watched Kate on her way home, making sure that she did not run into any more trouble. He went from roof to roof, watching intently. But the sun was coming up and the time for crime was ending, making her journey home swift and easy.

By the time Kate got safely home, she looked up at the roofs of the buildings around her and at the quickly fading shadows, hoping that she would have the chance to wave a quick thank you and good-bye to him. She had sensed his guardian-angel-like presence the whole way home. If she hadn't been so shocked from what had just happened, she would be exhilarated that the almost legendary Batman had just rescued her. But the sun was already up and Batman was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The Joker looked up at Batman's fleeing form, watching him in disdain and irritation. He was finally having a bit of fun. Yeah, so putting a smile on the faces of the officers who had guarded his cell at the GCPD was a bit fun too, watching some of Gotham's Finest fall to their knees and beg for mercy once he had gained the upper hand, but nothing could beat a one-on-one show-down with the Batman. It was classic!

The Joker thought back to a few hours earlier when he had made his grand escape. Sitting in a cell in the side of the GCPD that he hadn't blown up, he was bored and wanted a bit of entertainment. And he always thought that who better to entertain than himself! So, he spoke a few words to the guards around him, telling them only slightly cruel jokes and only faintly disturbing stories, and when that didn't work, he started telling them about his scars. They still didn't seem to care, and even told him to shut up! so the Joker decided to give them their own stories on how they got their scars, except they wouldn't be able to utter the stories, or even a word, again.

How did he do this? Well, that was the fun part! He bribed a guard, _easy as pie! _and that guard had gotten the cell door open. After that he had retrieved his property, which included his jacket, some minor explosives, and his knives, as well as the potato-peeler that he had been meaning to use, and made the officers all smile with a little slash here, and a little slash there. Most of them had fainted from the pain, but some didn't, so he killed the others, and then decided to kill them all, just for the message. It read: don't mess with the Joker. And he made sure that Gotham knew it was the Joker—just in case of a lapse in memory—by taking the joker cards from the sentries' card game and even adding a few of his own. Then, just to add the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae, he wrote his favorite words onto the wall with blood from the guards. They read HAHA over and over again, standing out on the whitewashed walls.

So the bribing of the guards was a bit cliché, but in the end he had added his touch to the scene and had gotten away. It was perfect!

Except that when he had just walked out the door, _just like that!_ he was a bit disappointed at the ease of it all. Of course the security cameras had gotten him, and he made sure to add some spice to his performance just for them, but he didn't know where the rest of the guards were. Slacking off was boring!

But, after the Joker was thinking on the boring aspect of the whole show, he noticed that he was being pursued by Batman, and his excitement was sparked again. Another showdown with the Batman! That would be fun! But then, right at the height of the duel, Batman had run away at the sound of some minor civilian getting scared by probably nothing but a spider.

The thought of Batman running away from him made him laugh, actually. He ran from the Joker to go after some other screaming person. Who cares about that person? _I thought I was the criminal mastermind, here_, the Joker thought. Shouldn't he be the one who got Batman's full attention?

The sirens were louder and the lights from the SWAT and GCPD cars were flashing around him. The Joker sighed a dramatic sigh, pursed his lips, and decided enough was enough. While it would be fun to play games with the GCPD again, he had better things to do.

The Joker seeped into the shadows around him. This was getting harder to do, since the sun was coming up, but he managed. He giggled as he thought that it probably looked like he was imitating Batman. But who was watching? Oh, well, maybe a bit of fun...He spread his purple jacket to make it look like wings and furrowed his brow. Then he collapsed into giggles. He couldn't keep a straight face for long. Actually, he hadn't had a straight face for a very long time.

At the sound of his cacophonous giggles, the SWAT teams decided to get this job over with.

"Come out with your hands up!" someone called from a megaphone. The Joker suppressed another giggle at the thought of him actually coming out with his hands up; his suppression wasn't easy. He saw helicopters starting to come in overhead, both GCPD and news crews. As much as the Joker loved being the center of attention, he was ready for a little downtime. And while he wouldn't be scheming, _heavens, no!_ he would be thinking out what he would do next to keep the lovely citizens of Gotham on their toes. Because, God forbid they get bored!

The Joker slid toward an old door in the side of the alley. It was wooden and rotting, so it would be easy to break down. He gave it one swift kick and it swung open, revealing a dark and dank room with boxes full of something. Some sort of old warehouse, he presumed. Maybe this place could come in handy later…

While the Joker really wanted to see what was in those boxes, he simply didn't have the time and he decided to find the door out. It would be fun to lead the police force into even more circles, but that wouldn't get him anywhere.

The Joker tripped through the dark building, falling over ropes and crates. He never was the most coordinated person. So, he had some scratches on his hands from catching his falls. Oh, well. Even criminal masterminds have their moments.

When he found another door, he opened it and looked suspiciously outside. He saw another street entirely, one that he noticed ran down to the East Bridge into the Narrows. The Joker started to get some ideas. The Narrows equaled Arkham Asylum. Arkham Asylum equaled weak-minded criminals. Except for when he graced the presence of Gotham's Nuthouse, of course. And weak-minded criminals equaled easy followers...

No, the Joker was not scheming. He was just forming some ideas as to how to get on his feet again. After all, he stumbled upon most of his wonderful ideas. This time wasn't an exception.

Then, deciding that the coast was clear, he jumped out of the old, dark building full of mystery crates and landed with a mental _Ta da!_

He heard the now distant sounds of the GCPD and SWAT teams still shouting behind him, choppers chopping at the air. Hee hee. Choppers chopping! What would he think of next...?

But he didn't think much next, because he heard the voice of the Commissioner booming over the speaker: "I know you're there, Joker, just come out and all will be well. You don't want us to have to come in there!"

_No, _you_ don't want to have to come in there. But that's okay, that's okay—I'm gone now anyway. How easy!_

The Joker reflected for a moment on how simple it was to get past the GCPD when he had to. Of course, before was not any big scare—he knew that getting out would be just a matter of time. But he had to admire Commissioner Jim Gordon for his little game of playing dead and then his capture of the Joker. There was nothing better than watching what people would do to keep the Joker out of message sending, Batman fighting, and simply joking around, even if the jokes _were_ a bit extreme for the usual human. His little game with Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes was definitely one of his favorites. Maybe he would get to play with Dent again, if he was still alive...

On the street, he casually walked past the seemingly incompetent GCPD and SWAT teams and walked the half-mile down to the bridge. It was nice to stretch his legs again in the early morning sun, but he still hurt from the impressive beating that Batman had given him in the interrogation room a few nights ago and from hanging upside down from Batman's grapple gun, all the while laughing his trademark laugh.

When he reached the bridge, the chaotic security forces behind him seemed to realize that no one was around, including the Joker, and they began to disperse to find him.

The Joker easily walked across the bridge without attracting any attention. He found it odd that at some times he would stick out like a sore thumb, while at other times he could walk around the city in broad daylight and not be noticed. It all seemed to depend on what he wanted.

Finally he made it to the Narrows. This island of Gotham's was full of upset lower class people and depression. The homes and buildings were run down and desolate, there was laundry hanging on lines, shouting was heard, and the homeless roamed the streets, hoping to come across a bite to eat. This was definitely not the pride and joy of Gotham.

The Joker didn't care about the depressed and poor people. What he cared about was the asylum that the small island held. So he turned right after crossing the bridge and made his way to Arkham Asylum.

Was he really going to create more chaos? The Joker had an idea as to what he would do next, but he wanted to see it all play out before he made any finalized actions. After all, he wasn't a schemer!

After walking at a steady pace through the island and toward Arkham Asylum, all the while skipping past puddles to keep his purple leather shoes clean and dry, he finally reached the massive building that seemed to emanate the screams and moaning of the insane. He hadn't ever wanted to get near this building again, but he now knew that it was crucial to his criminal mastermind comeback.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," he said to himself while he stared at the asylum, transforming his voice to sound like an evil villain. The Joker didn't consider himself an evil villain; he considered himself a smiling, happy villain. A villain that brings joy to people. When he robbed banks he made sure his henchmen wore happy clown masks. Or when he drove school buses instead of any old car around town. Though of course there was the SUV...but that was for after school hours. Yup, there was nothing better. But, there was a big difference between the two. Why, there was nothing evil about him!

"Let's make a little visit to some of my old pals," he said through clenched teeth, remembering some of his inmates and the headaches they had given him. He started to walk up the steps and to the front entrance. But then he thought that maybe that wasn't a good idea—the guards would recognize the purple-and-green villain of Gotham with his smiling face paint and tell someone to do something stupid, like keep him from seeing his buddies. And that would not bode well for them.

So the Joker looked for another side door and found one in an old alleyway near the river running beside the asylum. Except that this one had locks on it and there were bars on the windows beside it. So he decided to take a little bomb from his pocket, one that would actually blow something up and not those drugged ones that he had thrown at Batman, and he threw it at the ground near the door like a popper on the Fourth of July. Then he ran a couple big steps away and covered his head, hoping that the shrapnel from the door wouldn't lodge itself in any painful place. That included his face. His face was unique enough.

The impact of the bomb made a little explosion and the door was flung aside, ripping one of the hinges away. The outer edge of the door was smoking and charred and little pieces of ash floated and danced down to the ground. What a wonderful way to see the world, the Joker commended himself. Now I'm always smiling...

He recovered from the little explosion and, doing a mental check of any pain and coming up negative in the pain department and positive in the smiling department, he sauntered on into the building, wondering how much he could get away with in one action-packed day.

"I should be in a movie," he said aloud to himself and anyone else who may be listening. "It would be at the top of the box office ratings!" With that he found some stairs, walked up them three at a time, for fun, and then exploded some more locked doors. _So when do I get on camera or at least caught? How far away from the cells am I?_ He didn't let himself worry long, for worry wasn't part of his physical makeup, _hee hee_! _My make-up is a bit worry free, isn't it? _and he continued to make a path from the door out of the asylum to the main floor.

By the time he got to the main floor, he walked easily to the cells, particularly to the ones near the cell that he had been kept in before. Surely the guards would have noticed him by now. It's not like he was invisible! He wore a bright purple and green outfit, for Pete's sake, whoever Pete was.

The Joker decided to just keep going and finish his mission. The police were already after him. What's another crime going to do, anyway?

He looked up at a clock. The hands read six o'clock. Still early morning. But what was time to him now? Didn't really matter if it was six o'clock in the evening or—

Right then he saw it: the security room for the cells. Perfect. The thought of everything playing out so wonderfully made him giggle. The sound made the scared looking guards from the security room who had already seen him jump up from their seats and prepare their weapons.

"Hey! What're you doin'?" one guard asked, a fairly heavyset man with a scowl on his ruddy face. There was a gun in his hand. Then he realized who it was. "I'm calling for reinforcements," he said to his buddy, but, before any of them could do anything, the Joker, with a whooping laugh, elbowed the man in his gut and grabbed his gun. He held it before them, the red faced man even more red in the face—if that was possible—and sweating.

"If any of you care to tell me where the RELEASE ALL CELLS button is, I might just spare you from death," he said slowly and matter-of-factly, so that they could understand him over their probably screaming inner selves. The Joker knew how people reacted near him.

He continued to wave the gun at them. When they didn't respond, he pushed the skinny guard aside and muttered, "If you don't care to be hospitable, then maybe you deserve it." With that the Joker pushed the big red button that looked right and only hoped it wasn't the DESTROY THE BUILDING button. But, in the heat of the moment, like usual, the Joker decided to do and not think about the consequences. He squeezed his eyes shut to prepare for anything unusual.

He opened his eyes again after he heard a familiar buzzing sound. When he looked through the big windows of the security room he saw that the doors to all of the cells were opening.

_Jeesh, I remember that sound as meaning one door was opening, not all of them!_

This excited him and he was suddenly inspired to do some performing. He dismantled the guard's guns so that nobody could do anything stupid.

The Joker reached out to one of the many television screens that were watching the inmates. Then, pushing a couple of buttons, he made the camera that was watching the security booth show their scene on one of the television screens, as well as making sure that the shot was going to central Arkham.

The Joker then turned to one of the swivel chairs, looked at the still shocked guards—_they aren't very good at their jobs as guards of security_—and asked politely: "May I use a swivel chair?" They didn't respond. "Let's take that as a 'yes'," he said, and climbed carefully onto one of chairs.

He reached up to one of the cameras that was watching the security booth and turned it directly at his face.

"Hello, fellow Gothamites," he said with great stage presence. "I am here today to reintroduce you all to my genius. What you are about to see is what will happen to anyone who tries to disturb me for the rest of the day, at least. I'm tired and I want to go home. Not that I'd tell you where home is. But," and here he cleared his throat. "Let me make a message to you as clearly as I possibly can." He decided to get off of the swivel chair as quickly and carefully as he could, lest he fall and ruin his act.

When on the floor again he took a small circular object from his jacket pocket, placed it on the control table against a larger-than-usual button to keep it from rolling off the table, and grabbed the skinny guard. He wanted the heavier-looking guard to watch. Besides, he didn't think that he could lift him from where he still lay, in shock.

After gazing at the heavier guard for a moment, the Joker sighed. "Are you serious?" he asked, exasperated at the incompetence of so-called "guards" nowadays. "Do your job for once," he muttered as he pulled the skinny guard to him and took out his knife.

"Why can't the world just take a break for a moment?" the Joker said, making his voice sound his usual mocking and slightly whispery with the intensity of the moment, as well, "and stop being so serious?" And with that the Joker pressed his knife into the right hand corner of the man's mouth. He first looked admiringly at himself in the black and white television screen monitoring this moment of great intensity, then he turned dramatically toward the camera.

"So here's my message that I seem to preach time and time again that I hope will reach someone's ears. Stop fighting me. Stop trying to bring me down. Why can't the world just smile upon one another's actions? We're all the same inside. Deep down. Why do we have to frown all of the time? Why. So. Serious." He held the man tight and jerked his hand to the side, ripping half a smile into the man's face. He did the same with the other side.

"Look at this. If we're gonna be serious, there're gonna be consequences. Calm down, GCPD, and let the world run its little course. Batman, I hope you're watching this."

The Joker then shoved the man at the camera with the red RECORDING button still on, made sure that whoever was watching could see the damage, and then threw the now disfigured man at the heavier guard, who was panting in the corner. The Joker lastly took out a playing card from his pocket, showed it to the camera, and placed it on the table. It was a joker. The Joker knew that at least part of his little speech would reach the news tonight. He couldn't wait to see it.

With that he turned toward the camera, laughed a big, open-mouthed laugh, picked up one of the seemingly dismantled guns, shot a bullet at the camera, watched the screen go blank, and then turned toward the two security guards. He shrugged.

"Bluff. I knew I would need a gun, but I didn't want any problems with it." He mouthed a silent sorry at them, dismantled the gun for real this time, and walked out the door, into the cell hall.

"Who wants to work for me?" he asked the few prisoners who were still there, watching the show. He kept the offer short and simple. "Sorry, folks, no tryouts this time. I just need a bunch of mental cases." If they couldn't handle his sense of humor, then they were out of the game.

The men in the orange suits looked at him with eyes that suggested worship. This man had opened the doors to free them from their misery and was therefore next to God, whether he wore makeup or not. The Joker liked this game more and more every second.

"If no one is opposed, then let's go!" he said, wanting to hurry a bit before any of the security guards came and tried to ruin his fun. The alarm system in the asylum was already wailing and making bright red lights dance and flicker around the corridor.

While walking by the open cells, he noticed in his peripheral that one bright orange-clothed man was sitting in one of the cells to his right, not moving. He started to talk. The Joker turned his head to see who it was.

"You can't win," he said. "Only I will ever win."

"Crane, you don't look like you're going to win anything, even an innocent game of cards, with that look on your face," the Joker retorted. He would love to have some fun with this man as well, the man who had once practically run this place as a head psychologist. Now he was a head psychopath. This man had once drugged the Joker with so-called helpful medicine and tried to "help" him nearly to the point of hurting him. Crane even thought that he was Gotham's criminal mastermind, _haha_! "This town ain't big enough for the both of us, Doctor Crane," the Joker said, hardly able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. After all, there was no point. "Your little...little," the Joker pointed his finger at Crane, moving it in circles to try and get his thoughts out. "...Your little burlap mask that you wear as a face just doesn't work. This town needs irony. I'm it. I'm this town's better class of criminal." He pursed his lips in that funny way that he does it, almost a grimace. "Get over it. Good-day, Crane." The Joker turned on his heel and started to walk away.

"It's Scarecrow!" Crane yelled after him. "_Scarecrow!_" The weak retort made the Joker laugh his hysterical, whooping laugh.

As the Joker walked out with his beloved orange-clothed mental house escapees, he took a small button from his jacket pocket—the last thing that he could fit in his pockets—slid the small, iPod looking lock-button to the side, and pressed the button in the middle of the homemade device to detonate the bomb. The spherical bomb that he had placed in the security room exploded, blowing a third of Arkham Asylum sky high. It was quite an amusing sight. It almost made up for the fireworks that the Joker had missed a few nights ago.

He only hoped that the video of his little performance had made it so that he could watch at least the censored version on GCTV tonight with a pizza, laughter, and his buddies around him—but not too close—for they were headache inducing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Harvey Two-Face sat in an old broken down warehouse by one of Gotham City's many seaside ports. He was mindlessly caressing his lucky coin, the one that made his decisions for him. While once the double-headed coin shone a bright silver color, now only one side was bright, the other a burnt, dark, and corrupted gleam. Just like his face. Just like his person.

One side of Harvey Two-Face was Harvey Dent, the young, attractive man who had fought so hard for justice in Gotham City and had worked to put a stop to crime through the harmony and balance of law. The other side of him was Two-Face: corrupt, mad, distorted. He had abandoned the law and had let the flip of his coin choose for him what path to go down or, for others, what fate they would have to face. After all, it was only fair.

His physical appearance reflected this as well. The left half of his body was burnt so horribly that it was hard for anyone to look at him. The left side of his face was charred beyond recognition, bone sticking out, teeth showing in a cruel grimace of fate's making. The two-sided man had well earned his nickname from Internal Affairs and had put it to good use. Now he was no longer Harvey Dent. Now he was Two-Face.

Yes, Harvey Dent had died that fateful night when Two-Face had been trying to instill the fate of his flipping coin onto the lives of James Gordon and his family. With the arrival of Batman, Dent had ended up sprawled on the ground below, pale and unmoving. His coin had landed up above him, shining side up. Harvey Dent, District Attorney, had died.

Yes, Harvey Dent had died. Never again to be the White Knight of Gotham, the man who had fought so hard for justice. That was proven when Dent was lying on the ground looking no better than dead.

While Harvey Dent had died, Two-Face had been born again. As the light had begun to seep into the scene of the night's chaos, Two-Face had slowly come back to life. He laughed a harsh laugh at the thought of them thinking that he was dead. How foolish. He had fate to serve to the citizens—especially the politicians—of Gotham, and a little fall wouldn't keep him from that. That was his mission and he would live long enough to serve it.

So, hours later, Two-Face had gotten up and stumbled around, hiding from anyone who could possibly see him. This had proven to be a bit of a challenge since the sun was coming up, making the shadows diminish, and, face it, he was new to this life of crime. He had just been Gotham City's nominated District Attorney, and now he was finished with leading a life of having to prove which person needed justice instilled upon them. He would go at his own pace and not wait for the witless politicians and public to hear his speeches and make a decision. He would work from his own law firm.

Of course, the law didn't like it when others served justice for them, that he knew from Batman being declared an illegal vigilante. But what did Two-Face care? The law would have to deal with it. They were the ones who were too slow at saving Rachel from the explosion. They were the ones who would have to pay.

While reflecting on that day's events, Two-Face flipped his coin, just for practice. He loved hearing the sound of the metal against his fingernail, and he loved seeing the dancing sheen of the coin as it flew through the air. He loved feeling the weight of the metal fall into the palm of his hand and then the suspense on whether the good side would face up or the bad side. He loved everything about his lucky coin.

He decided to hold out on showing himself which side it landed on just to feel that sensation of suspense inside of him. He embraced it and welcomed it. Then, right when he felt that he couldn't stand to not know anymore, he opened his hand and showed himself. Bad side. The new DA would go down soon.

Two-Face shifted what was left of his lips into a cruel grin. This would be exciting. Something to look forward to every day. Something to work for. So Gordon's family was fine, but he would deal with that later. He had finished with most of his avenging of Rachel's death. Now he had to show the people that he once associated with how naïve they were to the world. How little they knew about true justice. He would turn the world upside down and let a bit of anarchy rule. Then they would see how useless the law was in a case like that. And his mission would start with the new DA.

When Two-Face had still been Harvey Dent, he had won the race to become Gotham's new District Attorney by a landslide. He was young, smart, and gave a new voice and tone to the law. Gothamites loved his touch in the courthouse and would flock to see his speeches and performances in the court. He lay down the law with a bang that no TV show could offer. He was by far the White Knight that Gotham's citizens had been dreaming of for so long. He was the legal Batman.

His opponent in the race had been a man in his early fifties with experience and skill, but the feeling of youthful energy just wasn't there for him. The older Gothamites had liked the experience and traditional feel that he brought, but the desperate younger citizens had needed someone new and promising. Edgar Lowell couldn't win against such an opponent as Harvey Dent.

But now that Dent was dead, words spoken for him and tears shed, Lowell was up for the seat. Gothamites had voted and he was pronounced the new DA. They couldn't avoid it. With Dent dead, the citizens had no one better. While Lowell wasn't a bad choice, he just wasn't the Harvey Dent that Gothamites had been anticipating.

Harvey pocketed his coin and got up from the old wooden chair that he was sitting on. He had found it in the warehouse along with many boxes, crates, and ropes. He had already looked into the boxes and found nothing of much interest: most of them were empty and some had pieces of what looked like scrap metal in them. He didn't waste much time in bothering with them.

While he had been trying to get out of the coming daylight activity of Gotham after that chaotic night, Dent had found this warehouse. _Perfect_, he had thought. It was a perfect spot to stay out of view, yet still in the center of the city. A perfect place for him to think up what to do next.

He had listened to the Joker that day before the hospital that he was in had been blown up. While he still hated the Joker for killing Rachel, his advice was something that Dent had wanted to hear. It was his little push from Harvey Dent to Two-Face, and, surprisingly, he liked it.

He wouldn't be a schemer, because, like the Joker had said, look where that had gotten him—but he would think things through a bit in advance. This was just how Harvey was made, and Two-Face had to follow suit.

As the uneventful day had turned to night and he could almost feel the extremely resilient Gothamites getting over the criminal mastermind chaos that the city was just plunged into and returning to their normal lives, he had slept the small amount that he could in the warehouse and had waited for the sun to go down once again. He had only hoped that Batman had either been chased out of Gotham for good or arrested and was behind bars once and for all. This incorruptible being seemed to be too unrealistic to the corrupted ex-politician. The Batman would have to be dealt with later as well.

But for now Two-Face wanted to focus on the new DA. He would do everything in his power to show Gotham not to trust their elected officials.

During that day Two-Face had relished in the pain of his charred face. It was horrifically painful, and only people who had gone through something as bad as the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory incident in New York City in 1911—or anything similar—could understand. Having half of your body burned, especially the face, which harbored so many nerves, was extremely uncomfortable. He had refused antibiotics in the hospital. Every shoot of pain was just another reminder of the death that his fiancée had gone through. He deserved to feel the pain.

He had also learned in his time alone that eating and drinking was very complicated for him. It hurt him, first of all, but it was also hard for him to chew and keep something in his mouth when he had no left cheek. He would have to figure out something since eating and drinking was such an important part of human existence.

When night had come again, Two-Face had left his secret, abandoned warehouse that was about to become his new home and went to find some things to make his new home more homey. There was already an old couch in the warehouse, chairs and tables, but he needed food and technology. He needed computers and monitors to start his mock-law firm and to gain more information quickly. But how to do this he had no idea. He couldn't rob an electronic store. That just wasn't him right now and he needed more time to learn how to be a criminal.

On his nighttime excursion he had stolen some food from a grocery store that didn't lock it's doors well enough. He had considered the nearest electronic store, but decided not to chance it. After he had finished all of the food that he could eat—which wasn't much because one, he hadn't been that hungry, and two, everything he had eaten just gave him more pain—he had walked into a dark alley to think of what to do next. Should he go to Gordon's house and kidnap his kids again? No, this wasn't the time. Should he break into the electronics store and get what he needed? No, he didn't want to make any mark that he was alive. He liked being thought of as dead. It gave him more cover. He would just have to go back to the warehouse and plan to make his mark later.

On his way through the alley and back to the abandoned warehouse, he had thought about how much of a petty criminal he felt like. Stealing some food from a grocery store? That was rebellious teenage behavior. He had to snap up and make his person known, and he would do that as soon as he could find an opening.

But, Rachel! She had told him that night before the explosion that had changed his life forever that she would except his offer for marriage. She had wanted to be with him for the rest of her life…And now she was gone!

"_Rachel!_" His scream had echoed throughout the alley. He hadn't even known that he had said anything. The hurt in his heart was too much to hold in any longer. Damn politicians! It was their fault that she had died! The GCPD hadn't gotten to her in time! Batman had saved him instead of Rachel! _Why? _Why was life so unfair? But it wasn't anymore. Not with his coin around. Whenever there was a decision to be made his coin would decide. Then he would know that everything was fair. Because how fair could the law be? It couldn't. The flipping of a coin was unbiased. It didn't care. Whatever way the universe decided to make the coin fall would be the answer. And now everything would be fair. Now everyone would get a fair, unbiased chance. He would teach those politicians a lesson that would show them how ridiculous their ideas were. After all, he knew first hand. He had once been one of them.

Two-Face had found himself kneeling on the ground, gripping the asphalt beneath him in pain. He took out his coin and flipped it. He caught it. Bad side again. This was a very bad day for someone. Good. Maybe someone else was feeling pain as well. Maybe he wasn't the only one.

As he had looked at the scarred side of his coin, something beneath him caught his eye. In the yellow pool of an old streetlight's glow in the alley that he was in, he could see a damp, still colorful newspaper sticking to the wet pavement. He peeled it from the ground, tearing only a bit of the delicate paper. _I Believe in Harvey Dent_, it said in white letters in front of a bright blue background at the bottom of the campaign advertisement. At the top it said in even bigger white letters _Harvey Dent for District Attorney_ with a red background. In the middle was a picture of the naïve man that Two-Face had once been, gazing upward with a determined look on his face like a proud student saying the Pledge of Allegiance before class started. Like he could cure Gotham City from its disease of criminals. The background of an American flag rippled behind him.

Harvey Two-Face tore the wet paper in half with a flick of his wrist. Being wet, the paper tore easily and left some of its colorful ink on his hands. But some small words at the bottom of the ad stuck out to him: _Paid for by Friends of Harvey Dent_.

_Bruce Wayne_, Two-Face had thought. He was the "friends". Wasn't he doing something to support the new DA's coming into office, too? A man with that much money and influence in the city couldn't get away with not giving charity functions and important speeches to those who sought to do some good in this city of corruption. Two-Face had heard very recently—after all, it had to be recently since he had just become Two-Face—that Bruce Wayne was already turning from the "dearly departed" Harvey Dent to the new DA, Edgar Lowell. The people of this city had learned to be very good at brushing off chaos and returning to normal life. Wayne was only practicing that. This was good. If Bruce was going to hold a charity function for the new DA, then maybe Two-Face could get something done. Something that would teach these citizens of Gotham that trying to live in an ordered world when there was nothing holding them from anarchy would be foolish. Two-Face would make his mark on Gotham and teach everyone a lesson.

Getting up, Harvey Two-Face had decided that he needed to confirm these suspicions of his with a little research. After all of those years in Harvard Law, he had learned something: he couldn't live without doing at least some research before making a big move. It was just part of how he was taught.

He had walked over to an old, chipping blue newspaper dispenser. The headline news that he could see through the dirty glass was dated that day's date—soon to be tomorrow's date with the light that was starting to come back. _Gotham Gazette: Joker Escapes! _it said in big, bold letters. _Hmmm, _Two-Face had thought. _I'll have to read that later_.

He had punched his hand through the glass of the box and had grabbed the newspaper. Glass had fallen everywhere.

_What? _he had thought to his disapproving other half. _Did you think that I was going to pay for a paper with my coin?_ He had laughed a grim laugh at the thought of it, grabbed another paper just to be even, and had started his walk back to the warehouse. He would read the paper there.

~/~/~/~/~/~

Harvey Two-Face had walked back into the old door from the dark alley that led into the warehouse. When he had shut the door behind him and had flipped the light switch that stuck out from the wall, stolen newspapers in one hand, he had stopped in his tracks. A scowl had come onto his face—it looked even more menacing in the dim light coming from the one light bulb hanging from the ceiling and the charred remnants of the left side of his face. He hadn't left the warehouse in such disarray. Why had he returned to a mess?

He had set down the newspaper and taken out his silver gun and coin. If someone were in there he would find them and use the coin to determine their destiny.

Quietly he had walked between the crates and boxes, stepping around the precarious ropes on the floor.

"Who's here?" he said to the darkness in his husky voice. "Show yourself!" Thoughts of Batman had come to his mind, but he brushed them away, determined not to be like those criminals that he had convicted before. Those criminals who had moaned about the wrath that the Bat could bring to the illegal world.

As Harvey Two-Face had walked through the warehouse, turning on lights by pulling of strings attached to bare light bulbs, he had become more and more assured that no one was there. He had then flipped his coin and had watched it dance in the naked light from the light bulbs. When he had caught it he placed it on the back of his hand and had let himself see the answer: good side. Someone had gotten lucky.

He had grunted to himself and had gone back to grab his newspapers. Then he had walked around the crates to the old couch and sat down on it. He would read now.

In the glow from the single light bulb above him he had tried to find a headline about Bruce Wayne's charity party for the new DA. Finally he had found something: _Wayne to Support New DA_. He read.

Billionaire Bruce Wayne, after telling _Gotham Gazette _about the sorrow that he felt about the death of the past elected District Attorney of Gotham City, Harvey Dent, has decided to support the new DA as much as he can with a function very similar to the one that he threw before for Harvey Dent.

"Dent was a very important person in Gotham City's history and needs to be remembered for his gallant attempt to save the city from the workings of the criminal underworld," Wayne said yesterday. "The city must move on from past problems and look forward. That is why I would like to hold a function for my official funding of Edgar Lowell, the new DA, just as much as I did Dent: so that money won't be an issue when purging this city of criminals."

His response to _Gazette_'s question about what he will do next was answered through his consent to throw a function at his penthouse on Tuesday evening. The new DA will be there as well as the more influential of Gotham's citizens.

When asked whether or not he thinks that people will come to his function after the problems of the last one, he answered "I hope that the citizens of Gotham can be as resilient as I have been when it comes to past problems. The Joker is in captivity again and hopefully fellow Gothamites will empathize with me the need to fund the true heroes of Gotham."

When asked if he meant that Batman wasn't a true hero of Gotham, Wayne shook his head and stated only "Batman is an interesting creature that I don't feel the need to discuss now. I'm sure he's trying his best to do what he thinks is right."

Bruce Wayne hopes his charity function for the new DA will, in time, help bring some light to Gotham City.

Two-Face set down the newspaper. _Tuesday evening_, he thought. _That's tonight_. The last party had been a disaster and here Bruce was looking to throw another one. He seemed to be as carefree as he always was.

But how would Two-Face get something done _tonight_? It seemed a bit early. Sure, he could go in and get something done, but wouldn't people be more on edge with the last incident? Wouldn't some precautions be taken? He would have to think about it. It was still early morning so there would be time to plan.

And there was the other problem: who had come in while he was gone?

So here Harvey Two-Face was, sitting on the old couch, thinking over the events of the past two days and looking for a solution.

And the solution came.

The door to the warehouse started to open and someone entered.

Two-Face immediately got up and slunk into the shadows. He would watch first and then decide what to do. Maybe his coin would decide for him.

The shape giggled a familiar, nerve-fraying giggle, and stepped into a pool of light.

"Who turned on the lights?" the man asked, hideous rictus red grin—which was messily painted onto his face—smiling out from the doorway. The Joker was here.

Two-Face didn't respond yet. The time was not right. He would wait some more.

"Oooh, if you wish to play games, I'll play! I love games!" he giggled again and took something from his pocket. It gleamed in the light from the lightbulb above him. His knife.

"Joker. I should've known it would only be you who would stumble into my place," Two-Face said, coming out from the shadows and making his distorted face shine under a glowing light bulb.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Harrrr-vey Dent," the Joker said, slowly skipping over to him.

"Come any closer and I'll shoot you," Two-Face said, drawing his gun.

"Oh! I'm so scared!" the Joker taunted in mock horror. "Put the gun down, Dent. There's no need to hurt anybody."

"You put your knife away," Two-Face demanded.

"All's fair with Harvey Two-Face!" the Joker responded. "Alright, fine. Knife," he held his knife up, "gone." He pushed the blade into the grasp and placed it in his pocket. Two-Face shoved his gun back in his pants between his belt and his hip. He wouldn't stand his guard down much, since he knew that the Joker was crafty and could get a lethal throw from his even now-pocketed knife in a second, but he relaxed just enough for the Joker not to be tense as well. If the Joker even cared. Nothing seemed to frighten him or make him tense.

"What are you doing in a place like this, anyway? Rumor has it that you're dead," the Joker asked.

"They were right. Harvey Dent is dead. Two-Face is born."

"How fascinating! You took my advice and caused some anarchy! How's that coin doing? Serving its job well?" the Joker asked. He dramatically peered over to look for Two-Face's coin. Then he looked at his face. "You're developing quite a character! Looking as handsome as ever, I see!"

"Stop the talk, Joker. I'm trying not to kill you. I was restrained last time. This time I'm free."

"You would actually take out your gun and shoot me? After all we've discussed already? No. I'm your creator. I made you who you are. Aren't you at least a bit grateful?" The Joker looked the two meters over at Two-Face. Two-Face glared at him.

"Are you trying to glare at me? I can't tell with the—," the Joker raised his left hand to his face and made motions in front of it, as if unable to find the words to finish his sentence about Two-Face's ruined face. Before he could say any more, Two-Face jumped the two-meter distance between them and pinned the Joker against the wall.

"I told you to shut up!" Two-Face yelled. "All this time I've been seething that you killed Rachel! All this time I've been dreaming of killing you! And what's to stop me now? What's to keep me from putting a bullet through your head!"

The Joker looked at Two-Face for a moment.

"Remember the last time a little something like this happened?" the Joker asked, voice mockingly gentle. " Just a couple days ago. Do you really think that little coin of yours is going to change its mind after only a couple of days? I'm tempted to say that I thought _my_ jokes were bad…" his voice trailed off and his painted face twisted into an apologetic look. "Harvey, Harvey, Harvey. Calm down. I have a scarred face too. See?" the Joker smiled. "No need to feel alone in the world. Now, if you want to get some ground in the criminal business, then you're gonna need some help from a professional. Like me." He narrowed his eyes at Two-Face. "I know what I'm doing," he said, voice still mocking, like usual, but climbing lower with each word.

Two-Face seemed to stop for a moment and deliberate. He did need some ideas for Bruce Wayne's charity function this evening and for his villainous start on proving to the city how foolish politicians were, as well as making his mark. After all, the Joker must know what he was doing. The whole city was afraid of him. The villainous part of Two-Face admired the Joker a bit. The other half hated him.

"First, why did you come here?" Two-Face asked.

"I found it while running from the cops. Sparked my curiosity, you could say. I wanted to know what was in these boxes. I already have a place to stay, so I don't need that, but…I guess we both had the same idea—"

"The cops are coming?" Two-Face asked, voice dry. Why did the cops always have to get involved? They were nothing but a hindrance, to him and society.

"No, no, no. This was _before_. I came back. Now, could you put me down and let me talk to you without…the glories…of violence." The Joker was starting to pant from the tight grip that Two-Face had on his neck.

Two-Face slowly took the Joker away from the wall and placed him on the floor again.

"Now, that's better," the Joker said, dusting off his purple suit. "Alright. I have an idea that I know you will like." The Joker looked closer at Two-Face. "Mm-hmm, I can see the makings of a good criminal in you. Not a mastermind, like me, but someone to mess with the good citizens of Gotham a bit. I like that. Okay, you have an idea and you want fabrication," he drew the last word out a bit. "What is it?"

A gleam of greedy passion flickered through Two-Face's eyes. "I want to show Gotham that politicians are nothing but cowards. Corrupted fools," he responded. He was willing to listen to the Joker, but anything else would put him over the edge. There was a tangible line between them that shouldn't be crossed.

"Excellent! Sounds like a great break! Now let's see…" the Joker seemed to ponder for a moment. "Nothing drastic. Nothing life-altering. Not yet. How about an abduction? Worked for you."

"Abduct the new DA?" Two-Face asked, skeptical.

"No, no, abduct a relative of the new DA. You've met him before. Does he have a wife, kids…?"

"A daughter. Around twenty-six years old. Kate Lowell."

"Perfect! The worst thing that you could do to a father is take his daughter from him. He goes crazy!" The Joker looked back at Two-Face. "When? Where? Ask yourself these questions."

"Tonight," Two-Face responded.

A huge grin of hilarity broke out on the Joker's face. "_Tonight! Woo hoo! _Now don't you think that's a bit hasty? Especially for your first big break…?"

"No. Tonight is the charity function at Wayne's penthouse for the new DA's coming to office. Everyone will be there."

"You're gonna need some henchmen, some guns, some cars, some _stealth_—you got stealth?—some drugs, some restrainers…look, I've been down this road before. You're gonna need a lot of help. And I can tell that you don't have what it takes. Maybe _you_ do, but materialistically, talking criminal mastermind to criminal—you can't work off of a warehouse full of this junk. What's in these boxes, anyway? Chemicals, hopefully…?"

"Nothing but sawdust and scrap metal," Two-Face responded. He was still trying to keep his cool around this maniac. But he could feel himself learning. Listen, learn, get help, and then kill. He would use the Joker until he didn't need him anymore and then dispose of him. He was sure that his coin would tell him when the right time was.

"Scrap metal? Well, why didn't you say so! Scrap metal can do a lot!" The Joker made an odd pursing-look with his lips, something that looked like an odd habit to Two-Face. "Look. I'll make a deal with you. I'll let you use my newly acquired henchmen—"

"You have henchmen?" Two-Face asked.

"Of course. Who do you think I am? Even criminal masterminds can't do everything by themselves. Didn't you watch the news this morning? I'm all over it. It's wonderful!" The Joker paused to giggle, and then continued. "Anyway, I'll let you use some of my henchmen to do this kidnapping of yours. You'll kidnap the girl—be subtle about it, nothing theatrical like I did last time. Rich Brucey probably already took expensive precautions to keeping his penthouse safe from incidents like what I did last time. Not that I even recall seeing him there…No, that would be too risky. Kidnap her when she's alone. When she's outside. There'll be a time. Don't think about it—don't scheme—just do it. You'll know when. Take her here, which needs some help…a lot of help…and then we'll torment her father with her abduction. The new DA would go crazy, like you—" the Joker muttered this last part, "—and then once the new DA is completely corrupted, we'll make our statement to Gotham City and you'll have made your mark. Now, don't forget Batman."

"Batman doesn't scare me," Two-Face responded.

"It doesn't matter if he scares you or not. What matters is if you can get past him. Now, when he gets into the scene, leave him to me. I want him. He's just too much fun!"

Two-Face was a bit suspicious about this newfound helpful Joker. Something was up.

"Why are you helping me? You have no reason to."

"Oh, but I do," the Joker said. "You see, I help you start a career in the criminal underworld, you kidnap the girl, turn the DA corrupt, and make your mark, like you want, and you help me get to Batman so I can continue to torment him. It's too good of an offer to miss! I might even get to see who's under that mask after all. But I've been doing some thinking about that…as much as I would love to know, it would spoil my fun a bit. Nothing would be the same. It would be like if he knew who I was _before _I fell into that vat of chemicals…and _I _don't even remember! That just wouldn't be as much fun. Also, after all, I made you Two-Face and now I have the responsibility to get you on your feet. It's only _fair_."

Two-Face considered. Maybe he should let the Joker help. Get himself on his feet, like the Joker said he would help do, and then Two-Face would push the Joker off of _his_ feet and Two-Face would become the leading terror of Gotham City. Every politician would fear him. He would have his revenge.

"Only the coin can tell," Two-Face said, and he took his coin out.

He placed the coin onto his right thumb and flicked it into the air. Both the Joker and Two-Face's eyes looked up to watch the coin spin, and watched it fall. Two-Face caught it, placed it on the back of his left hand, and quickly covered it so that both of them didn't know which side was facing up.

"Good side you're out. Bad side I let you help."

"Mmmm, you _know _I love a good coin toss from Harvey Dent Two-Face," the Joker purred.

Both of their eyes glowed at the precarious game.

Two-Face let the suspense grow and then, when it was almost too much to handle, he lifted his hand.

Bad side.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I'm terribly sorry to wake you, Master Bruce, but my better judgment tells me that you should see this as soon as possible," Alfred said to a slumbering Bruce Wayne. It was 2:17 in the afternoon.

Bruce was exhausted from the last night's excursions. Right when he had thought that he would be getting used to being tired all of the time, the Joker had turned up and had to make everything worse. When the Joker was caught again, Bruce had thought that finally things would settle down. He should've known. Nothing with the Joker ever makes anything easy. At least Batman took him down for now.

"Really, Alfred? Is it really that important? Not anything about the echolocation of nikteerde, or nacerte, or..."

"Nycteridae, the 'slit-faced' bats, with a genera number of one, and the number of species being fourteen...?"

"Whatever, Alfred, can I go back to sleep now?" He decided not to add _you really are the king of useless information._

"Master Bruce, first of all you sound like a moody teenager. Second of all, as Batman and a civilian of Gotham City, you must see this," Alfred responded.

"First of all, I'm not Batman now. I'm a very sleep deprived Bruce Way—"

"That's why I added 'a civilian of Gotham'." Bruce could tell that Alfred was getting restless. Something was wrong, and as much as Alfred could be a bit persistent about something for no good reason, Bruce knew him well and knew when he really did have something to worry about. "Well, maybe I should leave you alone. I am your butler…"

"Oh, Alfred, don't you start talking like that. I'm up," Bruce said, without another word.

He got out of his bed, threw on his robe, and, just for good measure, smoothed down his bed-rumpled hair. Alfred started to walk toward the kitchen where the plasma was on and showing GCTV. Bruce followed, still blinking to adjust his eyes to the afternoon sunlight that was pouring unusually brightly through even the everlasting clouds of Gotham City and into his many-windowed penthouse.

Even though it wasn't the morning, Bruce's nocturnal schedule made him feel like it was, so he was grateful for the cup of caffeinated coffee that Alfred had made for him to keep him awake. Alfred found the remote and turned up volume on the TV.

"…part of Arkham Asylum destroyed. The inmates in Section E of the asylum were all released by the suspect except, oddly, for the former head of the asylum and now inmate, Jonathon Crane. When asked what happened he responded with only laughter and the words, 'He can't win,' over and over again. Security footage of the Joker in the asylum this morning proves he was involved. Investigations are continuing on and around the scene. The casualties list at twelve…"

"The Joker? He's escaped _again_? But I had him right in front of the police! Do I have to personally escort him to prison every day? I'm not his baby-sitter!" Bruce was fuming as he tried to figure out what to do. Batman had failed. He had failed at rescuing Gotham from this madness. More would die and it would be all his fault. There was no more time to wait. Bruce had to get his costume on and become the Batman once again…

"Is this thing recording?" Bruce asked Alfred, not taking his eyes off the TV. He knew that at any mention of Batman the TVs in the penthouse would automatically start recording, but he didn't know if Batman was mentioned before this part of the news.

"Don't worry, Master Bruce. I've also programmed the TVs to record at any mention of the Joker, as well," Alfred responded. "I figured that if the Joker's involved, then Batman's involved."

"Yet again, what would I do without you, Alfred?" Bruce asked, once again shocked at all of the work that Alfred had done for Bruce.

Instead of his usual remark of _I'm sure that you would do just fine without me_, Alfred turned back to the TV and said, "Without me, you would miss the edited footage ahead."

Bruce snapped his head back to the TV. He silently thanked Alfred and watched the newscaster.

"Somehow the citizens of Gotham City are plagued yet again with this madman. Is his new disturbing footage and escapade a plea for attention or is this another plan to get the Batman to reveal his true identity? Once again the Joker has made his mark and has also made sure that all of Gotham knew that it was him. We have an edited version of the footage from Arkham ahead."

While the GCTV logo appeared and the commercials started, Bruce shook his head. This would be the third time in the last couple of days that the Joker would have his footage or at least his voice on the news. His "message". _I guess the Joker really likes attention_, Bruce thought. _But I already knew that_.

Bruce and Alfred waited silently through the commercials, Bruce staring into space and toying with his cup of coffee while he thought of what to do next, and Alfred busying his hands by making a simple yet filling sandwich for Bruce to eat.

"What do I do know, Alfred?" Bruce asked suddenly, voice slightly hoarse from distress.

"If you really want the opinion of a butler, Master Bruce, I would say that you should learn what you can about the Joker's whereabouts, rest and eat for a bit to renew your strength, and do what you do best: save Gotham. You know what you are doing, Master Bruce. Don't doubt yourself." And here he pushed the plate with the sandwich on it toward Bruce's side of the kitchen island.

Bruce thanked Alfred for the sandwich, picked it up, and took a bite. For a moment he felt satisfyingly mundane eating a sandwich on a nice afternoon with his most trusted friend beside him and the news on. But then he remembered his mission and what he needed to do and he was jerked back to his reality.

The commercials ended and the news came back on. They started with a portion on the economy, some political-talk, and, finally, they came to the portion on the Joker. It wasn't something that could be kept off the news for long.

"The Joker has surprised us with more footage—this time found in Arkham Asylum," a newscaster said. "The video is even more disturbing than the last, so it has been edited for the public audience. Even while this is in affect, we still advise discretion."

Bruce and Alfred leaned in to watch closely.

The footage started, Bruce noticed, in some kind of security booth. Probably one of the many in Arkham. The Joker was standing on a chair, his pale face with the gruesome painted-on smile tilted up toward the security camera.

"Hello, fellow Gothamites. I am here today to reintroduce you all to my genius. What you are about to see is what will happen to anyone who tries to disturb me for the rest of the day, at least. I'm tired and I want to go home." _Home? _Bruce wondered. _I would love to know where your 'home' is…_ "Not that I'd tell you where home is." _I didn't expect him to. _Bruce thought, a bit exasperated. It was like the Joker had directed that sentence for him personally. "But." He cleared his throat. "Let me make a message to you as clearly as I possibly can." The Joker carefully got off the chair he was standing on.

Bruce noticed that, through the black-and-white haze of the security camera, the Joker took something from his pocket and placed it on the table beside him. Then he grabbed one of the guards that was standing there, shocked and unarmed.

The Joker seemed to stop for a moment and look at the other sentry who was almost out of the view of the camera. The Joker mumbled something too quiet for the footage to pick up and pulled again at the first guard who was trying to get away from him.

Then the Joker directed his attention back to the camera. "Why can't the world just take a break for a moment and stop being so serious?" His voice was mocking. The Joker then glanced at something to the side: a monitor showing the scene, Bruce presumed. He _was_ full of himself. The Joker then pulled out his knife and pressed it into the side of the man's mouth. _No! _Bruce thought. _Not again! _He couldn't help thinking that all of this could have been avoided if he had just stayed in the alley and made sure that the Joker was captured once and for all. But then defensive thoughts came into his head: he would have had to deal with the GCPD trying to bring him down, which could have probably created a diversion for the Joker to escape anyway, and Kate Lowell would have become a victim…Batman knew that he couldn't let even supposedly petty crimes lose his attention while the Joker was running around. That wasn't fair to Gotham. He had to focus his attention on every issue. It seemed that Batman could never win.

Bruce turned his attention back to the TV and listened to what the Joker said next.

"So here's my message that I seem to preach time and time again that I hope will reach someone's ears. Stop fighting me. Stop trying to bring me down. Why can't the world just smile upon one another's actions? We're all the same inside. Deep down. Why do we have to frown all of the time?" Bruce could almost feel his least favorite words coming. The infamous, trademark words. And they came. "Why. So. Serious."

The next part of the footage was cut out, as Bruce had expected, and instead of skipping to after the damage, the screen went blank as a result of the editing. The audio was still on, though.

The Joker's voice could be heard. "If we're gonna be serious, there're gonna be consequences. Calm down, GCPD, and let the world run its little course. Batman, I hope you're watching this."

There were thumping sounds, like the Joker was hitting or tossing the guards around, and then the visuals came back on.

Bruce saw the Joker take out a joker card from his pocket, show it to the camera, and place it on the table. He next laughed his horrible laugh, a laugh that seemed to penetrate into every fissure of Bruce's existence. Then the Joker picked up a gun, muttered some more words that seemed to be meaningless, aimed, and fired at the camera. The screen went blank.

Bruce made his body relax. When the footage ended he noticed that he was pulling at his hair in anxiety. What was he going to do? He looked down at his uneaten sandwich. The Joker was out and already wreaking havoc. Bruce had to stop him. The Joker had killed Rachel—and here Bruce's fingers clenched into a fist—he had destroyed Harvey Dent, he had killed innocent people…and all because of the attempt to send a message from a man who had an unfortunate fall into a vat of chemicals. This was getting out of hand.

Of course Batman wasn't going to kill the Joker. That would be disobeying the Batman's rules. But Bruce wondered if there ever would be a time when he would cross the line and just get it over with. _No! _Bruce thought. _Don't turn corrupt—that would mean that the Joker succeeded! That's the Joker's goal. To turn Batman corrupt and show the world that even the best of us can be just as bad as he is. That's what he did with Dent and Dent fell for it. But Batman can't. Batman has to set an example. He has to send his own message. _

All the while that Bruce was pondering this, he didn't notice Alfred get up and start to put on his coat. There was a disc in his hand.

"Where are you going, Alfred?" Bruce asked after he finally noticed this.

"I think that it would be in your interests, meaning mine as well, to go to your underground chamber and do some research. What do you say to that?"

" I say that's a great idea and that I'm going to get dressed now. After I finish this sandwich," Bruce responded. While he was still upset about this whole Joker situation he had to start somewhere. His underground chamber, or the new Batcave in the city, would be a good place to start. He would do some research on where the Joker could be and on any clues pertaining to his recent escape. Like the Joker basically said, he would be playing it low for now. Bruce didn't like that. That meant the Joker would probably be planning something. And his plans were never for the betterment of the city.

Bruce quickly finished his sandwich, feeling a lot more energetic, and got dressed. Then they were out the door in no time and headed toward the freight entrance of the underground chamber. While there was a tunnel leading from Bruce's penthouse, Alfred and Bruce both agreed that it would be nice to get out into the city in the daytime to see what was going on. While Bruce wasn't Batman at the moment it still made him feel good to watch the city, if only from the seat of a car.

When they got into the underground chamber by using the floor that lowered down into it, they immediately headed for the computers. The lights slowly turned on to turn the dark expanse into a bright white chamber. Then the floor lifted back up again to become the ceiling.

Bruce and Alfred walked over to the many computer monitors. Bruce waited as Alfred put in the disc of the recording that he had brought with him and then pushed play. They watched it and did some scans, doing the same work that they had done only about a week ago. The situation was the same as well: the Joker was out and causing chaos and they needed to figure out where he was before he did anything more. They would have to find their way around this problem as well.

"Alright, so we haven't gotten much information from this video," Bruce said. "But it's a start. I'll go out again tonight and see if there's any trace of him. Knowing the Joker, he's got to be out there somewhere cooking up a mess."

Alfred agreed with him and Bruce turned his attentions away for a moment to the making of his new Batmobile. If he was planning on getting the Joker back under heavy guard in Arkham Asylum, then he would need the Batmobile to help him get around. The other one had self-destructed itself when the Joker had been trying to kill Harvey Dent because he had thought that he was the Batman. Now the Batmobile was destroyed and the Joker was free again. At least Gordon was alive. That much Bruce was happy about. While Batman was the on-stage vigilante hero, Gordon was the backstage manager producing the show. Bruce truly thought that without Gordon Batman couldn't have gotten half as far as he had.

While Bruce was working on making his old Batmobile work like the newer one that had self-destructed, he thought about how he would get the Joker. But there was really nothing to play off of. He didn't know where the Joker was or what he would be doing. Bruce knew from the news that the Joker had taken the lunatics from Section E with him, so that was something, at least. He would have to find a list of what their names were and what they looked like…

Of course, Bruce Wayne, Gotham City's billionaire-playboy, would definitely be questioned if he tried to do anything out of his usual money spending or girl-getting that he was known to be fond of. Personally, Bruce didn't care about any girl, except for Rachel, but she was gone now—he had to remind himself to stop the flood of pain and guilt before it physically hurt him—and money spending was easy with the amount of money that his father had left him in his possession. So when Batman wasn't being Batman, Bruce had to keep up appearances that led the public to believe that he couldn't be anything even close to a vigilante or crime fighter. While the deception wasn't always easy, he was good at acting and knew that his reputation was important to maintain. There had already been some problems with the press getting too out of hand and trying to convict him of unusual actions. But Bruce had skillfully pushed their remarks aside with the airs of a young and bored billionaire.

Bruce was just finishing up on adjusting the frame of the Batmobile by using the laser alignment tools. Before reinstalling the engine, he decided that it could use a simple modification by his adding of a three hundred shot nitrous system to give it more horsepower. Whenever there was a chance to make any of his technology better, like his suit, tools, or Batmobile, he always jumped up to the occasion. Lucius Fox was also very useful when it came to finding new solutions to problems. When there was crime to fight, Bruce always had to make sure that Batman was fully equipped and ready for anything. With the class of criminals in Gotham City, there was no room for failure.

Fox was an extremely important factor in this. While this head of WayneTech hadn't been educated on what was really going on when Bruce Wayne had asked for some of Fox's highly advanced electronics and inventions and using poor excuses to cover for him, it was internally known between the both of them that Fox wasn't as ignorant to the matter as Bruce pretended he was. Bruce was just happy with the fact that Fox didn't demand a reason for his exploits and that he didn't need to add another name to the rapidly minimizing list of people who knew his secret identity. Although, now, with Rachel gone, that brought him to one: Alfred.

"Master Bruce, I hate to disturb you, but it is nearly eight fifteen and you have to be at your charity function for the new DA at nine o'clock. You do remember, correct?"

"Oh. Sure, Alfred…" Nearly five hours had flown by since the time that they had reached the underground chamber. Bruce could spend all day working on improving his old Batmobile. And he wasn't needed for work today. The people he worked with at Wayne Enterprises had told him that there would be no board meetings or anything important for him to have to go to—of course, they all knew how uninterested in his family's business he was. Bruce's job was really only to keep the business running and to appear every once in a while as a figurehead.

Bruce wasn't excited for this party. It would be too similar to the last one, when Rachel was there. But, for the sake of the resilient denizens of Gotham City, he had to come back like they had come back so soon from the terrors of a criminal mastermind inflicted on their homes and families.

During this time, Alfred had been to the penthouse and back by using the tunnel to run errands, start decorating for the charity function, and help Bruce with fixing his Tumbler. Alfred was not too shabby when it came to mechanical or basic medical procedures. Being Bruce's butler, which also meant Batman's butler, those skills always came in handy.

Bruce got up, cleaned up the tools that were strewn across the ground, and wiped his hands on an old rag to clean them from the slightly messy work. Then he put his coat on while Alfred turned off the computers.

When they got back to the penthouse it was already 8:30pm. Bruce quickly got into his tux, combed through his hair, tied his bow tie, and made himself presentable. Then he looked at himself in the mirror and put on his billionaire-playboy look, a look that required bored eyes, lips slack with arrogance, and his concentration to keep it.

While Bruce was getting ready, Alfred had made some finishing touches to his simple yet elegant decorations, greeted the quartet and made sure they were tuned, and set his personally catered food and drinks on tables decked with white tablecloths and candles. Bruce's penthouse was starting to look more and more like a charity function for a new District Attorney with every second that Alfred was there.

There would be no surprise entrance via helicopter for Bruce this time; soon the guests would start to flood in and, after his formal hello, he would find some girls to flirt with. The usual Bruce Wayne would have a usual Bruce Wayne charity function that would feel more like a party or social gathering than anything.

But this time would be different. This time he had sensors set up throughout his penthouse and constant immediate access to the GCPD in case they knew about anything dire. Bruce was recently added to the list of people that the GCPD would call if anything like a villain or a criminal mastermind was on the loose. Of course, this was provoked by the situation that had happened the last time Bruce had a gathering in his penthouse. The Joker had made an unexpected visit that had ended in Rachel plunging to her death from the high-up penthouse with a one-winged Batman trying to keep her from hitting the ground. In the end they had both survived, but the situation was lethal and gratuitous. Bruce and the GCPD wouldn't want anything like that to happen again.

At 8:56, guests had already started to arrive. Alfred greeted each at the door and made sure that they were on the guest list. All of the wealthy and higher up in the city had been invited to attend the function. They had all been asked to come and help pool their money to a cause that would help the new DA stand up for the law and keep Gotham free from criminals, or at least freer. The donations would be going to not just the DA, but to the GCPD, Arkham Asylum, and various other forensic labs, criminal justice schools, and security technology centers. Bruce felt good about doing this and the new DA's coming into office was a good excuse to help fund this.

By 9:04, all of the guests had arrived, Bruce had thanked everyone for coming, said some polite and inspiring words to the new DA—which seemed to have a similar air as the last one with Harvey Dent, but that was Bruce's plan: to show that he really didn't care which way—and the quartet had started with some nice background music to the scene. The city outside was dark and the blocks of light coming the skyscrapers speckled the view behind the penthouse's large glass windows. Women wore dazzling dresses and sparkling jewelry while the men wore tuxes with slicked back hair. The atmosphere was light and crisp with the sound of polite laughter and champagne glasses clinking together. Some people had bravely ventured out onto the grand balcony, but the weather was still too chill for anyone to be out there for long. Bruce understood their willingness to be out of the confusion of the crowd and longed for some time alone himself. But he reminded himself that he had an appearance to keep up and he renewed his arrogant face again.

By 10:37, the party was in full swing. Dinner had been served and eaten as well as desert and Bruce had found two girls—his usual amount. Leaning back confidently in his chair and with an arm around each girl, Bruce entertained his side of the table easily. He was used to changing from the normal Bruce Wayne to the publicly known Bruce Wayne and then to Batman, who was more of the normal Bruce Wayne than he would want to admit. After he had gotten into the publicly known Bruce Wayne façade, it was just as easy to pull off as his other personalities.

Bruce noticed that someone was standing alone outside on the balcony. That was odd. Usually the people at his parties were always with someone else. He decided to get up and check out the situation.

"Excuse me, ladies. I'll be right back." Bruce made sure to slur his words a bit—for Bruce Wayne always tended to drink a bit more than necessary—and pushed his chair away from the table. He heard complaints coming from the girls' direction but he pretended not to hear them and continued to the balcony.

"A little cold?" he asked when he walked onto it. The air was almost biting, but he could feel a hint of summer in it. Maybe the year was going faster than he had expected.

Then he looked. It was Kate Lowell. He suddenly felt uneasy. What if she recognized him through only his eyes or his mouth? Some people were more observant than he wished to believe. Rachel had recognized him. While she hadn't said that it was him, she said that she knew him from somewhere. But Rachel had known Bruce since childhood. With that thought, he shook off any uncomfortable feelings. Kate hadn't even been formally introduced to him yet.

Kate was wearing a simple black dress with a thin, elegant shawl and her hair up in a messy, yet sophisticated, bun. One strand of auburn hair had gotten loose and was caressing her pale cheek with the movement of the wind that was always a little more than usual from the height of Bruce's penthouse. She held a glass of champagne in her hand and was moving the bottom of it in circles on the top of the railing.

Kate looked over at Bruce.

"Oh, hi. I probably should have introduced myself. I'm Kate Lowell. The new DA's daughter," she said, and stuck her hand out.

Bruce shook it. It was cold. "Bruce Wayne. Nice to meet you, Miss. Lowell. But you didn't answer my first question. Is the DA's daughter cold or not?" His slurred words were gone and his arrogant look was slightly changed, but not entirely. He didn't want to completely abandon his guise. But he could tell that there was more to this girl than the shallow ones he pretended to like back inside. For some reason her mien made him not want to act too superficial around her.

"First of all, you can call me Kate. Second: No. I'm fine. I like being here."

"Alright. And you can call me Bruce." It was nice to talk to someone so down to earth, unlike most of the other partygoers.

He noticed that she was looking up into the sky.

He looked up too, to see what she was looking at. The sky was overcast and cloudy, like usual. "What are you looking at? There are no stars tonight."

"Oh, I know, I was just thinking," she answered.

"About…?"

"About how nice it is here."

"Here? You mean in Gotham?"

"Yes. I'm originally from the suburbs, but I decided to try my luck out in the city for a bit. Since my dad became DA, it all sort of seemed right. Besides, a position was open in your business that was perfect for me and I couldn't resist." She smiled and looked at him. "You do know I work for you?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course." He said. He made it sound unconvincing for the sake of keeping up appearances. He could feel himself slipping.

Kate looked at the bright buildings in front of her and the dark streets and alleys below her. "I've only been here for four months, though, so I'm still not completely settled and I don't know the city very well. I'm always getting lost. How can you handle such city confusion?"

"You mean the streets?" Bruce asked. His brain had started to wander to the city confusion of the criminals he had to deal with. Kate was new here and probably didn't know much about the reputation that Gotham had as a city of crime. But she had been here the other day and had probably tried to evacuate as well. "You get used to them," he said. He had to ask. "Weren't you scared away the other day? With the Joker incident…?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't fun, but every city has their moments. The San Francisco Earthquake, the Great Chicago Fire, 9/11…you have to understand that things like that could happen."

Bruce was suddenly serious. This girl obviously didn't know what she was in for. He remembered seeing her shaking in the alley while that man had tried to steal her purse. That was just this morning.

He normally would have elaborated on the excessive crime, but something in her look made him stop.

Then it dawned on him. She had given herself a pep speech after that incident and was applying it. She didn't know about half the crime that Gotham City was notorious for.

Maybe he was judging her. But, being Batman inside, he felt the need to clue her in before she started to do anything safe-suburban-like in this city. "Yeah, things like that could happen, but it's always good to know that you're taking safety precautions. Lock doors, carry a taser, don't keep big amounts of money on you, don't walk near dark alleys…" He glanced at her and checked himself. He was starting to sound irritated and protective, and that wasn't the Bruce Wayne that she was supposed to see. "I mean, I'm only lecturing you because the whole point of my party is to fund the law enforcing parts of the city, and I'm still in the mode." He gave her his most charming Bruce Wayne smile.

She didn't take it. "I know what you think: since I'm from the suburbs I don't know what I'm in for with living in a big city. But my father's a lawyer. I know," she said, now with a confident tilt to her chin.

He kept his gaze on her while she kept looking up at the cloudy sky. "You know what?" he challenged.

"I know that this city is crime ridden enough to need that." She pointed upward.

The Bat-signal was shining on the clouds, white light around a dark bat symbol. That was his cue. When the Bat-signal shone he was supposed to go immediately to the roof of the GCPD, where Commissioner Gordon would most likely be there, coffee in hand, hair askew, waiting to tell Batman of some crime that needs more help than just the GCPD to take it.

Bruce furrowed his brow. But hadn't the Bat-symbol been destroyed? That's what he had heard in all of the papers. The media was all over the end of the GCPD letting a bat-costumed vigilante run their jobs.

Well, if the situation was bad enough that the GCPD had dragged out some sort of old Bat-signal—if there was such a thing—or erected a new one on the spot, he should be there as soon as possible. The problem probably had to do with the Joker. But what could they expect out of him? Instant action? Well, Bruce Wayne knew very well that Batman _was _human and still had some research and fixing to do before he could go out on the streets. Otherwise he would be wandering around aimlessly. And what to do about his party?

He nodded at Kate and stood there with her for a moment, thinking about what to do.

Then, after about what felt like three minutes of awkward silence and a bad feeling in his stomach for not responding immediately to the Bat-signal, he excused himself from her, hoping that she would only think it was because he had nothing more to say.

Then, when he got inside he walked, hopefully casually enough to not cause any notice from the partygoers, but still swiftly, over to Alfred to whisper the news in his ear. Alfred loyally stated that he would take care of the rest of the party and then see the guests out, telling them that Master Bruce couldn't be there to see them out at the time. Of course, it would be all over the news that Bruce had ditched his party, even before midnight, which was odd—his parties could last until one in the morning. But right now he cared more about saving the innocent from crime than his reputation as a billionaire-playboy. He just hoped that no one would associate the appearance of the Bat-signal with his leaving. Especially Kate.

Bruce walked as casually as he could without really sauntering—he wouldn't be able to take that—over to the tunnel leading to the underground chamber and his Bat-suit.

He sighed. Hadn't something like this happened at his other party?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After Bruce had left, Kate looked out again at the Gotham City skyline. She really did think that it was beautiful. Even with the constantly overcast skies and the blatantly obvious Batman symbol that had seemed to her to be, sadly enough, overused in the past four months of her living there. But she was glad that it was there and that—despite what the papers had said—it was in action when it had to be. It was a reminder to the citizens of Gotham to be careful, and for the criminals to cease any illegal activity.

She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms—somehow she didn't think it was the cold that had given her those—and pulled her thin shawl closer to her. She sighed. She had to go inside sometime. She _was _the new DA's daughter, and he and others expected some interaction from her. She couldn't tell them that really she preferred to be alone, especially after the incident that had happened this morning. And it didn't help that her first and, so far, only conversation with her employer and possibly one of the richest men in the nation had reminded her too much of that morning. And because of that she had been cold to him and then they had been standing out on the balcony in an awkward silence for the longest time and then he had left so suddenly, like he had to get away…

But maybe she was just overanalyzing the situation, like she usually did, and was being too much of a critic of herself.

She decided to down the rest of the champagne in her glass, which was only a small bit, and then she turned and walked back inside, intent on being more charming and hopefully tracking him down again and being nicer.

When she walked in she glanced at a clock: 11:03. Then she walked over to a plate of skewered shrimp and plopped one in her mouth. She didn't really focus on how it tasted; she was too busy thinking who she should start a conversation with first. Maybe she should go find her father? _Good idea_, she answered for herself. _Find Dad._

Kate walked over to the tables and found her father listening intently to a dinner-table anecdote. She walked around to the back of his chair and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her.

"Hey, Kate," he said. "How's it going?"

"Fine," she answered. She might as well get it over with. "Do you know where Bruce Wayne might have gone?"

"Bruce? No, I haven't seen him. But he should be around here sometime. It's his party." He grinned. "Everyone has been so nice about my coming into office. Have you met Peter Henderson? He's in Internal Affairs and he…"

Kate listened politely and quickly threw on her charm. She was introduced to more guests by her father, all of whom seemed to be either lawyers or politicians.

She listened to some stories and then, when there was an opening, she squeezed her father's shoulder and got up to leave. He, in return, patted her hand. Kate was grateful that he seemed too engrossed in a new story at the table to insist on her staying. She wanted to find Bruce.

While Kate walked away from the table over to the other side of the room, she heard laughter coming from behind her. She smiled. Her father seemed to be enjoying himself.

No matter how hard Kate looked and how many people she asked, she couldn't find Bruce. After a while she decided to give up and go back to her father. It wasn't that big of a deal, anyway, she told herself. She just didn't like it when conversations went sour. It bugged her.

Kate tried to start up conversations with the people around her, but she felt a bit out of place. The only person that she really knew was her father, therefore making him the only person that could introduce her to anyone. And everyone whom she'd been introduced to was still at her father's table, except for Bruce, who was nowhere to be seen.

On her way to the table she noticed that people were starting to leave; it was nearly midnight. Maybe that would be a good idea for her too.

"Dad, I'm going home now, if you don't mind. I'm a bit tired and I have work tomorrow."

"No problem, Katie," he said. "You've been good. Get some rest. Love you." He reached up and kissed her cheek.

"Love you too, Dad." She didn't comment on how at her age of twenty-six her father still had to tell her that she'd been good. She smiled a small smile and walked toward the elevator, which served as one of the ways out.

"Excuse me," she said to the kindly looking butler standing by the elevator. He turned toward her.

"Yes, Miss Lowell?"

"I'd like to be going now. But could you tell me where Bruce is? I haven't been able to find him and I'd like to thank him for the wonderful charity function in honor of my father's taking office…"

"He cannot be here at the moment," the butler responded. "I do regret, Miss Lowell, that I can be of no satisfaction to you."

That was odd. Bruce not available? But he was the host. She thought of how he had a tendency to do things that suited his schedule. Maybe that was it. A pure conceited moment for Bruce Wayne. She knew that those weren't uncommon for him.

"Don't worry about it, it's no problem, just please tell him thank you for me when you get the chance. I'll catch him later. At work, maybe."

"Your coat, Miss?" he asked.

"Thank you."

Kate let the butler help her into her coat and then, purse in hand, walked into the shining gold elevator. She watched as the red numbers diminished in value until she got to the ground floor. Kate was glad she wasn't the only one leaving; there were five other people in the elevator: two couples and a man. She had paid her dues the best that she could and knew that with her father as the new DA she would have a lot more of these to go to.

When she walked out of the elevator she went through the lobby and out the doors. The night was dark, but the streets around the building buzzed with activity—mainly of chauffeurs grabbing cars for the party guests and the guests driving back to their nice mansions and penthouses. Lights of all colors whirled by formed out of the expensive cars' headlights and turn signals. She looked begrudgingly at the nice cars: Lexus', BMWs, Lamborghinis, Porsches…She had taken a cab to get here. She was going stick to her word that she had made known to even Batman: she would try to be in a car while traveling through Gotham City.

The only problem was that her old car had developed some difficulties and she'd sent it to a garage to get it fixed. Kate didn't like it when her car broke down—the people who fixed it always demanded outrageous sums of money for their work. But she couldn't think mechanically to save her life, so she had had to do something.

That's why she'd decided to spend her precious money on taking a taxi. While she was the DA's daughter, that didn't mean that she wasn't trying to support her own life. Once she progressed in her job she would get more money and life would be easier. She just had to get to that point.

Amidst the confusion of expensive cars coming and going and the thought of how little money she had, she decided to walk halfway home and then find a cab. That way she could save money and start her journey home without having to wait through all of the people. But she wouldn't go too far because she was still shocked from the incident of the morning. And she knew that Batman wouldn't be watching over her this time, since he had been summoned. She looked up at the sky. The Bat-signal was out. That was a good sign. That probably meant that Batman had heard the news and was out fighting crime, hopefully.

Kate walked down the sidewalk, rounding a bend when she came to a corner. She decided that she would walk down to Neumann Street and once there flag down a taxi. That would be the most economical route. She nodded to herself, intent on her mission.

As she walked, the posh area of Bruce Wayne's penthouse turned quickly to poor—such were the ways of Gotham City, as she had learned. The streets were dark with the occasional pool of yellow light coming from streetlights or the lights that hung from old brownstones. Old, broken down thrift stores or tattoo parlors with criss-crossing metal bars over their windows loomed darkly beside her. Late-night bars made her light skin glow multicolored from their bright neon signs. She shivered in the cool evening air and walked faster. According to her internal calculations, she should be nearing Neumann Street soon. That thought comforted her.

Her heels made for uncomfortable walking, but she gritted her teeth through the forming blisters and walked on. _Almost there…_

As she turned the last bend—or what she thought would be the last bend—she fell into a dark alley. _Not again_, she thought. _Just get me out of here! _Kate wasn't the bravest of girls and knew that she wasn't. Her heart started to speed up. Then she realized that she was lost. _What street was I on? _she thought. Maybe her internal calculations weren't so good…

She remembered the conversation that she had had with Bruce earlier that evening: _"I'm always getting lost. How can you handle such city confusion?"_

To which Bruce had responded: _"You mean the streets?…You get used to them_."

_Thanks, Bruce_, she thought, sarcastic. That was helpful, especially now that she needed some _real _advice.

Realizing that she was lost and needed some help, she took out her cell phone to call information. Maybe they could tell her how to get to Neumann Street. If she could only find a street sign…

Right as she was opening her phone, someone knocked it out of her hand. She jerked away and yelped.

A man stood beside her, coming from the alley, wearing all black—including a black ski mask—with a gun in his hand. More men creeped out of the shadows from behind him and who knew where else.

Kate started to back away, mouth still stuck in a shocked O, when she ran into something behind her. She turned and saw another man with a gun.

"Don't move," the man told her.

Kate couldn't do anything drastic, even though she wanted to: she imagined hitting him and then running away. But how far could she get in her heels with a probable bullet racing after her? She didn't want to think about that.

"Here, if you want it so bad, take it," Kate said, voice shaking. She held her purse out to the men. Two in one day. She couldn't believe it. If she got through this she would find a therapist and leave Gotham for good, no matter how many job opportunities she got.

"We don't want the purse. Come with us and everything will be fine," one masked man said in a steely voice.

Kate shook her head. "I can't," she said weakly. "I won't." Her voice was getting quieter and quieter and she was falling into herself, into some internal place that would make her mentally leave the horrible situation. She didn't want to believe it. Where was Batman? He had saved her earlier. But then she remembered the Bat-signal and the mission that he was probably already on, a mission most likely more important than her…But she knew that she couldn't get his help all of the time. He was a miracle. She had to do what other girls did in other places in situations like this and take care of herself. But right now she was utterly failing at this theory and she continued to become more distant. Her vision started to cloud and her ears to ring…

But then she felt someone pull her arm.

This jerked Kate out of her mental recluse and she hit the man who had grabbed her. Instinct had kicked in. _Survive_, her instinct told her. _Just survive. _

She turned and ran out of the alley and into the street.

Then she heard a gunshot, loud and frightening. Horribly loud.

Kate expected her vision to cloud again and her body to weaken from the bullet, but when it didn't, she realized that the men had just scared her. Had tried to keep her from running away by shooting a bullet into the air.

They had succeeded.

Kate was surprised these thugs had risked detection by shooting the gun. They must be pretty cocky to think no one would hear and call 9-1-1. Then again, this was Gotham, and maybe people didn't get involved for fear of getting hurt…

Between the time that Kate had paused in fear and when she realized the bullet was just a bluff, the five men had caught up to her. She could feel their rough, gloved hands fold over her thin arms and pull her back into the black alley. Someone hit her hard on her cheekbone. Her thoughts blurred for a moment but then she pulled herself back together. She kicked and hit them with all of her might, but it wasn't enough. Then she started to scream for help, but when she did that someone hit her, hard, in her stomach.

"Shut up!" she heard.

Kate felt weakened by the fight and was pulled deeper and deeper into the alley. She stopped hitting and kicking and decided to droop, trying to become too heavy for them to drag easily. But somehow they seemed to be fine, and they stopped fighting her at her relaxed state. She realized that she had just signaled defeat. Maybe that's what this was. Surrender.

_No,_ she thought, tears forming in her eyes. _I won't give up!_

But when she felt the cold touch of gun barrels against her, she knew that it would be in her best interests to give in for now. Maybe a better opportunity would present itself later. For her to continue fighting the mysterious men could be fatal for her, and she knew it.

But while Kate's body had stopped fighting, her brain worked on, thinking up ways to get away. The feeling that she would faint that had come over her body earlier was replaced with quick thinking. Why where they taking her? Where? Who were they, or who did they work for?

As they dragged her deeper into the alley, she noticed that some of the five men had odd habits, like twitching hands or wide and crazed eyes. Were they drugged? Or were they insane? She seemed to recall something on the news about escapees from Arkham Asylum…

But before she could think any more thoughts, she noticed that they had started to leave the alley and appear near a street. A big black SUV pulled up quickly and one of the men that was pulling her along ran up and opened the door. They were going to make her get into the car. _No_, Kate thought. _Not going to happen. _She instantly started to kick and hit the men as well as try to twist free from their grips. She came back with more force this time after having rested, with her adrenaline cranked up, and with the men's element of surprise gone.

The men were hardly slowed down. But they were irritated.

"Does the gun not scare you?" someone asked her. He pressed the gun into her forehead this time.

"If you want me so bad, you wouldn't kill me," was Kate's answer. She was pretty shocked with herself. This was logic that she wouldn't have guessed in a million years that she would have uttered in such a situation as the one that she was in then. She was also shocked that her head was actually thinking logically when under so much stress.

The man's eyes went blank for a moment. _Yes_, Kate thought. _There's something wrong with him_. She still wouldn't allow herself to think that these men were the ones from Arkham. Why would anyone want her? Especially anyone like them?

But then the man's eyes focused again and he looked at Kate.

"Boss said you'd obey if there was a gun at your head."

"Boss?" Kate asked. She didn't want to stay and chat, but there were some things she had to know.

Before she could get any further in picking the man's brain or trying to twist out of the men's grasp, she heard "try this," and felt a damp cloth cover her mouth and nose. Then, when she inhaled, a sweet scent filled her lungs. _Drugs_, she thought, right before everything went black.

~/~/~/~/~/~

Kate could feel herself being shoved into the SUV but she had no control over her muscles. She appeared to be sleeping. Her body was slack as they pushed her to the left side of the back seat, right behind the driver. She felt her head fall against the window and her hands being bound with a plastic loop, which was tightened against her wrists. If she had been in control of her voice she would have protested. Whatever the drug that she had inhaled was, it was strong enough to keep her senses dulled and her muscles loose, but not strong enough to keep her from comprehending the situation around her. _Can chloroform do this? _she thought, her mind still foggy. Either someone had feared overdosing her, or that someone had _wanted _her to comprehend what was going on around her, so as to frighten her and therefore lessen the amount of disobedience. Whatever it was, Kate couldn't figure it out anymore because the drug suddenly started to take a stronger effect and she fell completely unconscious…

~/~/~/~/~/~

After "waking" and then falling unconscious again for about three times on the way to wherever she was going, the drug on Kate started to wear off. She began to twitch her fingers to test out her newfound strength.

"Look at her fingers. She's coming back! Should we do something?"

"Yeah, you're right. They were moving. Well…Boss said that we don't need to waste our drugs on her once she's in the car. Let's wait and see."

Kate felt the man beside her lean forward and say, close to her ear, "You hear me? Don't try anything stupid." The other men laughed and then he sat back again.

After a moment, Kate's eyes fluttered open. She tried to lift her head up, but the world started to spin and she reached up to hold her head, only to find her wrists bound tightly together.

"Easy, now," she heard someone say to her. "No sudden movements."

Kate looked up at the men in the car, blinking to clear the blurred forms. There was the driver and a man in the passenger's seat, who was aiming a gun at her, and the man beside her, also aiming a gun at her. Their masks were off, for the sake of keeping away the suspicion of any police man who would look into the car windows, and she could see their plain features. She would try to remember them for later, when she was with the GCPD and describing the criminals. Kate only hoped that she would live long enough for something like that to actually happen.

The men who weren't driving both started at her intently. Kate hated the sight and she turned her head away. Her vision blurred with the spinning and she closed her eyes.

"Our girl's awake, Fred," the man beside her said.

"Don't say names, idiot!" the driver said. "She could tell the cops!"

"When's she gonna get to the cops?"

"I don't know! Just shut up and watch her!"

Then she thought. Where were the other men? She opened her eyes and looked into the left side mirror. The image was askew from her angle, but she got the gist of it. There was another identical black SUV behind her. That was probably where the other men were, following her.

In this time Kate had devised a plan. She had to get out, no matter what. Her heart had started to pound rapidly again and she started to see things in slow motion. Before the men had finished with their bickering, Kate quickly reached up and pulled the door's lock out of the hole. In almost the same fluid movement she grabbed the handle to the car door and jerked it open.

"Hey, shut up! She's escaping!" said the man in the passenger's seat.

Kate ran out the door just as the man beside her tried to grab at her. She had come to the conclusion that she could get shot, but that was probably better than where she was going.

Kate forgot about how dizzy she still was from the drug. The world started to spin again and she fell to the street, trying to clear her brain.

In this time the driver had yanked the wheel over and had come to a screeching halt behind her. The other SUV had stopped in front of her.

From both cars men in black clothing started to come out.

Kate was doomed if she couldn't get away, and she knew it.

She pushed up with all of her might and, once she was on her feet again, she started to run away from the impending continuation of her abduction.

She didn't get very far in her dress and her heels—_why won't they get off?—_and before she could do anything progressive, the men had already caught up with her.

One grabbed her arm. "Where you goin'?" he asked.

She yelled in frustration and fear and stomped her sharp stiletto onto his foot.

"Damn!" he yelled, and jerked his foot away.

But that only took care of one of the seven men. The other six were fighting her down.

Just then Kate realized that it was over. She was completely outnumbered. There was no way that she could win. But she decided to give it one last shot.

"Help!" she screamed. "_Help! _HELP!" She had Batman in her mind, but anyone would do. If she could only get away…

"Shut up!" someone said, and smacked her. She fell and was carried back to the car.

When she was shoved back into the SUV, Kate heard the sound of duct tape being pulled from its roll. Then she saw a man cut off the end of the strip and place it on the lock. He pulled out another strip and placed it over the door handle at her side of the car. While the tape couldn't stop her, it would surely slow her down.

Kate heard curses and threats muttered her way. She heard "When we tell Boss…" and "Wait till Boss punishes you…"

When the men had all returned to their cars, Kate felt the wrath of the man beside her the most. When he was done threatening her and shoving his gun in her face—most likely to get his anger out and to show her who had the power—Kate looked up at the Gotham City skyline. The skyscrapers loomed high above her, their lights dulled. The sky was overcast, like usual. The night was dark, and the city of crime wasn't sleeping tonight.

But where was Batman? Hadn't he heard her? She prayed to see his looming Bat-form flying above the cars, on his way, taut wings quivering in the wind. The thugs would see him as something to fear. Kate Lowell saw him as a miracle.

But no such miracle would reach her tonight. Actually, no miracle at all.

Kate was driven deeper into the depths of Gotham City's underworld, to places she had never seen. The shadows seemed to grow darker and the damp pavement shone under the rare streetlights. Kate was horribly upset. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She didn't know how to react. She didn't know if she would even live through it.

After around fifteen more minutes of driving deeper into the Underworld, the SUVs came to a stop. Kate jerked her head back up from resting it on the window and looked around. They seemed to be near a type of old warehouse, but she wasn't sure in the darkness.

They pulled her out of the car, dragged her by the rickety fire escapes and under the brick of the warehouse, and through a door. After pulling her through complete darkness for what felt like a good seven minutes, she was shoved down into a chair. Then she heard footsteps become quieter until she couldn't hear them anymore.

She understood their meaning: don't get out of the chair. She didn't want to anger them more, but where were they going?

"Wait!" she yelled meekly, unable to get anything much out of her parched throat. The adrenaline rush had dried out her vocal cords. Her throat hurt—that sandpapery feeling—from lack of water.

But her heart started to pound against her chest again. "Don't abandon me!"

"You're definitely not alone," she heard a menacing voice say from about four feet in front of her, and she heard the click of someone pulling a cord.

A bare lightbulb suddenly came to life in front of Kate and illuminated the space around her. And the person in front of her. Someone she had only really either heard of or seen on the news. Someone that she never wanted to meet or even see in reality.

He wore a purple suit with a green vest, gruesome make-up on his face, and horrible scars that formed a rictus grin. His hair was tinged with green.

"Hello," he said.

* * *

_I hope you've enjoyed reading the story so far! I would like to say that the reason I haven't updated in so long is because I lost the rest of the story in a computer problem. :( But, I AM planning on re-writing the story and posting it, but, for those of you who understand how hard it is to re-write a story, it will take time. Please review what I've written so far! I really really appreciate reviews! And, if you like my writing, I have plenty of _Star Trek _stories to go around, so, if you're a Trekkie/Trekker, like me, make your way over to my profile and enjoy! :)_


End file.
